


Opportunity of a Lifetime

by klaineanummel



Series: A Night With the King [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Class Differences, Dubious Consent, M/M, Multiple Partners, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-05-29 03:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6356494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klaineanummel/pseuds/klaineanummel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine Anderson's life was turned around when he was called upon to spend a night with the King. Now his life has turned around again, as he has been asked to become the King's new concubine and has had to uproot his entire life, moving to the castle to be close to the King. </p><p>This is not the future he wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody! Welcome to Part Two of A Night With the King! If you haven't read part one, I strongly urge you to read that part first before reading this one, as it really lays the groundwork. While this fic is technically longer than the last one, it is split into eight shorter chapters, to ease your reading of it. I will be posting one chapter a week, every Friday, hopefully before 5pm EST. I'm posting it this way because while this particular fic is complete I'm still working on the rest of the verse, and I don't ever want to have more than a three week posting hiatus between parts :) 
> 
> Many thanks to mailroomorder for being my cheerleader and for helping me clean this fic up. It wouldn't be readable without her <3 Also a big thank you to all of those who commented/left kudos on the first part! Hugs and kisses to all of you, I love you so much.
> 
> Please make sure you heed the warnings in the tags. There are extended warnings [ here ](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/140753664325/a-night-with-the-king-warnings-masterpost) (also includes a masterlist of all the pairings that are mentioned in this fic, though none other than Burt/Blaine are explicit). As always, please be aware of the dub-con warning. It's the biggest one, and the most potentially triggering. Please stay safe <3 
> 
> More Klaine in this one, but the Klaine storyline really takes off in Part Three. Hope you enjoy this enough to want to stick around for it ;)

The journey to the palace passes quicker than Blaine expected it to. Perhaps because he’s spent the entire ride emptying his mind of all thoughts that could make him cry. Perhaps it's because he's been so distracted by the beautiful forest they've travelled through to arrive at the capital. Perhaps it's because the capital itself is so beautiful and grand that merely riding through it on a carriage hasn't felt like enough.

Regardless of the reason, Blaine is surprised when he sees the castle ahead of him, a stark contrast against the night sky. He hadn’t even noticed the sun’s descent. It feels as though only moments have passed since he climbed aboard the carriage in Westerville, and yet here he is, on the outskirts of the capital, staring at his new home for the first time.

It's grand. Far grander than Blaine anticipated. Incredibly large and made of some form of white stone with what looks like blocks of silver and gold interwoven in the design. Blaine is sure that if it weren't already night that he would be even further overawed. He can’t help but imagine what it must look like in the morning, the sun shining down on it, reflecting off the silver and gold. How it must look as though it sits upon a cloud when the ground is covered in snow, the light of the sun bouncing off the snow and surrounding the castle in an ethereal glow.

It’s strange to think that he will experience these views. He lives here now. In this incredible castle, made centuries ago for Kings and Queens. And now he, a little baker boy from Westerville, lives here.

He thinks back on his fantasies as a young child, the desire he felt to be swept off his feet by the dashing Prince and brought to the castle to be his husband. The thought of his childhood fantasies gives him pause. His heart aches as he realizes that he will never be able to share this with those he loves most. He tries to push the thoughts out of his mind. Thinking of the past, even a fantasy past, is a gateway to thinking of his family, David, the bakery, his friends… everything he was forced to leave behind.

No. He will not think of those things. He focuses his attention on the castle, becoming even larger as the carriages approach it. He thinks they may already be on castle grounds, and he looks over the gardens with glee. He hopes he will be free to explore them. He can already imagine the warmth of the sun on his skin as he lies in the perfectly manicured grass, a book in his lap, a light summer breeze ruffling his hair.

He wonders where the stables are, and whether he will be given permission to learn to ride as he has always wanted. Will he even have time to learn to ride? He stares up at the approaching castle as he thinks upon the question. His main duty is clear, but aside from that he has not been informed of how he will occupy his time here. Will he be free to roam the grounds, to learn new skills, to befriend the other inhabitants of the castle? Or will he be forced to remain under the control of the King at all times, a prisoner to his every whim? It is already strange to think that he may need to ask permission to learn to ride a horse, as he has been considered a man since he turned fourteen. Will that be the fate of his life? That of a grown man forced to request permission to enjoy even the simplest of pleasures?

How did he end up in this situation again?

The carriages come to a stop before the castle, and it isn't long before a young man has opened the door to Blaine's carriage and is unloading his trunk. The page, Mason, is standing beside the young man and he holds his hand out to help Blaine out.

Blaine just raises an eyebrow and steps out on his own. The page rolls his eyes.

“I hope you will treat the King with better courtesy than you treat his servants.”

Blaine purses his lips. “You don't like me much, do you?”

The page smirks, then turns on his heel. “Come with me,” he says, hands behind his back as he walks toward the castle. Blaine goes to pick up his trunk, but finds that it is gone. He looks around frantically, the panic of losing the few items he has from Westerville quickly overtaking him.

“My things!” he shouts, hoping to gain the attention of the page, who is already a dozen steps ahead.

“Are already being brought to your quarters,” Mason turns to give him a little smirk. “You aren't a baker anymore, Blaine.”

Blaine swallows thickly but nods as he follows the page into his new life.

**

The inside of the castle is far more grand than the outside. The floors are made entirely of marble, as are many of the walls, though the colours differ. Every hallway is lined with either statues, plants, or paintings, and every open door Blaine has peeked into seems to lead into a room bigger than Blaine's entire house.

Mason leads him down several corridors, so many that Blaine has no idea how he will find his way back. He wonders if there are maps of the castle available for new arrivals, for he believes he will desperately need one.

Finally, Mason pauses in front of two large mahogany doors and turns to look at Blaine for the first time since they entered the castle.

“These are the concubine quarters,” he says, gesturing to the doors. “They are where you will be spending the majority of your time. When you are not otherwise occupied, of course.”

Blaine flushes.

Mason pushes the doors open and leads Blaine into a large room that absolutely takes Blaine's breath away.

There are wall to wall windows covering the entirety of the back wall, giving him a spectacular view of the castle's back gardens. The other walls are lined with doors and bookcases, and the floor of the room has been decorated with lavish rugs and plush sofas and chairs. Blaine cannot wait to curl up with his favourite book on one of them.

There is a man on one of the couches, holding an open book with one hand, ankle hooked on his knee, tapping his fingers against the fabric of the couch.

He is gorgeous, Blaine cannot deny that. He looks to be incredibly tall, with pitch black hair styled high. He is wearing nothing but a loose shirt and a thin pair of breeches, which do nothing to hide his muscular figure.

Blaine looks away when his eyes catch on a small bulge in the man’s lap, feeling himself turn beet red.

“Elliott,” the page says, causing the man to look up. “It's late.”

The man, Elliott, shrugs. “Brittany learned some new relaxation technique from Carole. She's trying them out on Emma. They're using my bed since it's the biggest, or so they say.”

Blaine tries to remember those three names, assuming they are all concubines as well. He will no doubt become acquainted with them sooner rather than later.

“I see,” the page rolls his eyes. “Elliott, this is Blaine.”

The man turns his eyes to Blaine, a smile appearing on his face. “Well, well. So the rumours are true, the King did pick up a new boy on his travels.”

Elliott stands and walks toward them. He glances at Blaine, taking him in from top to bottom, then raises an eyebrow at the page. “He's pretty.”

“Yes, everybody is completely taken by his beauty,” Mason rolls his eyes, and Blaine blushes more. “Blaine, Elliott is one of Prince Kurt’s concubines.”

Blaine’s throat dries as he looks over Elliott again. If this is what the Prince likes then it's no surprise he didn't want Blaine.

“You make it sound like he has a harem,” Elliott chuckles, holding his hand out to Blaine. “I'm only one of two.”

Blaine nods and shakes his hand. “Pleasure,” he says.

Elliott raises an eyebrow. “You don't sound like you're from Essex.”

“Westerville,” Blaine says.

Elliott smiles wider. “Well, I’ll be. Another village boy. Sebastian will be thrilled.”

“I'm sure,” Mason says, then to Blaine. “Come, I will show you to your quarters.”

He leads Blaine to one of the doors at the end of the room, the one closest to the large wall of mirrors. The door leads to a short corridor with four doors on the right side and several tall windows and plants on the left.

“You will have this wing entirely to yourself,” Mason says, leading Blaine to the last door. Blaine notices there is one more door at the very end of the corridor, smaller than the rest. He assumes it is the water closet. “Most concubines have their own wings, so don't feel too special. Concubine quarters had to be expanded when King Clark reigned and no King has ever matched him.”

“I understand. I am one of many, I should not feel special.”

Mason rolls his eyes. “Not too many. The King only has four other concubines.”

“Oh,” Blaine can't help but feel slight pleased at this news. He may not want to be here, but that doesn't stop him from feeling special. He is not one of a thousand, he is one of five.

“Here we are,” Mason opens the door to Blaine's new room.

Blaine can't help but stare in awe at what is revealed to him. It is a small room, but only in relation to the rest of the castle. It is most likely the size of his parents bakery, and is decorated so lavishly and ornately that Blaine doesn't even know where to begin.

“Will you be needing anything else?”

Blaine shakes his head, still staring in awe at his new surroundings. Mason must take that as a sign to leave, for soon the door is clicking shut behind him and Blaine is alone.

He stumbles to the large bed and falls onto it with a sigh, though the tone of it even he cannot discern. It is plush and soft and far more comfortable than his old mattress. He wishes he could share it with his mother, who always yearned for the finer things in life. He wishes he could show David, kiss him on it and beg him to purchase a similar one for when they married. He wishes he could show his father, laugh with him about the incredible difference between his quarters in the castle and his quarters at home.

No, not at home. In Westerville. This is his home now.

Sadness creeps into his chest, so Blaine hurries to his trunk, placed conveniently close to what he assumes is his closet. He rids himself of the day's clothes and grabs his sleep shirt, avoiding touching the one he took from David. He doesn't think he's ready for that yet.

He crawls into his brand new bed, and sighs once more as head hits a feather filled pillow and his body sinks into the plush mattress.

He closes his eyes and tries to empty his mind so he can fall asleep.

He refuses to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ rebloggable on tumblr ](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/141690225335/opportunity-of-a-lifetime-18)


	2. Day One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy friday everybody! hope you enjoy this chapter :) thanks so much to everyone who left comments/kudos on chapter one! i love all of you <3 
> 
> please keep in mind the [ warnings for this fic! ](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/140753664325/a-night-with-the-king-warnings-masterpost) I want you all safe :) 
> 
> A brief note on sexuality in this verse (because I know that the introduction of Kurt’s other concubine might be surprising to some): in this universe, everybody is assumed to be attracted to all genders, and most are. only about 10% of people experience attraction to only one gender (Blaine is one of these people).
> 
> Also, for some reason AO3 isn't letting me post using rich text, so I'm sorry if the formatting is a little off :/ I'll try and fix it ASAP!

Blaine wakes up to soft hands stroking his hair and a soft voice singing quietly. He sniffles and slowly opens his eyes, shutting them quickly when too much light greets him too soon. 

It only takes him a second to realize he is in a brand new bed and there is somebody he doesn't recognize in it with him.

He jumps up, shouting in surprise, and ends up falling right off the other side of the bed.

“Oh my god,” a girl says, and Blaine sees a blonde with bright blue eyes peeking over the edge of the bed. “Why'd you do that?”

“Who are you?” Blaine asks, eyes wide as he tries to catch his breath.

“Brittany. Why'd you do that?”

“Why are you in my bed?” Blaine asks, heart thumping in his chest. 

Brittany shrugs. “You're new. I thought you might be nervous.”

“And jumping into my bed and totally invading my personal space is going to make me less nervous?”

She frowns. “I was just being thoughtful. I learnt this new relaxation technique where you run your hands through someone's hair and sing to them quietly. Carole said she used to do it with her son all the time, and so I tried it with Emma and it worked really well. I was just trying to help you, too.”

A snappy _I don't need your help_ builds in Blaine's throat, but he buries it. Shouting at this girl isn't going to make things any better. 

“Okay,” Blaine says. “But, and this is just a thought, maybe you should make sure you know the person before you jump into bed with them?” 

She blinks at him, and for a second Blaine wonders if she understood him. “Okay,” she nods. “But you should still be more thankful. You weren't sleeping well when I came in and then you were really relaxed afterwards. So.”

This is ridiculous. “You want me to thank you for scaring me?”

She huffs. “Fine. But don't come to me next time you want somebody to help you relax.”

She hops off his bed and heads toward the door. Blaine shouts, “Wait!” before he even knows what he wants to ask her. 

Brittany turns around and quirks an eyebrow at him. Blaine notices that she's already fully dressed in a light blue dress that brings out her eyes.

“Are… You're a concubine, too?”

She nods. “I was Prince Kurt's first concubine!” she smiles proudly. 

“Oh,” a lump grows in Blaine's throat. So this is the Prince’s other concubine. Also tall and slim and absolutely gorgeous.

“And you're the King’s new concubine,” she says. “You're kind of a big deal. Sebastian is furious.”

“Who… who is Sebastian?”

“He was the King’s favourite,” she says, then wiggles her eyebrows. “But you're here now, so…”

Blaine swallows thickly, heart rate speeding up again. “Oh.”

“See you around!” she wiggles her fingers at him and walks out of his room. Blaine watches her go, trying to process all this new information. He feels like he's going to spend a lot of time processing in the next few days.

**

After getting dressed he heads to the water closet and attempts his usual morning routine despite only finding a small brush for his teeth and a paste to make the experience slightly more pleasurable. He stares at himself in the mirror for several minutes, trying to calm his beating heart, attempting to convince himself to start his day.

Taking a deep breath he ventures into the common area. If anything it looks larger than the previous night, morning light flooding the room. There is a large table against the window that he didn't notice earlier, and four men and women are sitting at one edge of it, eating and chatting.

Blaine recognizes Elliott from last night, and sees Brittany as well sitting beside him. Steeling himself he heads in their direction.

“Blaine, hey,” Elliott greets, smiling widely. He pulls out the chair on the other side of him. Blaine takes the hint and sits in it. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Oh, submissive,” a woman jeers, and Blaine looks up to see an older blonde woman, hair cropped surprisingly short. She looks hard, like somebody Blaine doesn't want to anger. “Burt hasn't craved submission since he got Emma.”

Blaine doesn't know how to respond, so he just looks down at the table. A plate with several pieces of bread with butter and a large selection of fruits slides into his field of sight, and Blaine looks up to smile at Elliott in thanks.

“Ignore Sue,” Elliott says. “She thinks she can say whatever because she's been here the longest.”

“You're damn right I can,” she says. Blaine looks over at her, but sees she's smiling despite her harsh tone. “Do you know how many orgasms I've given the King in my time? I deserve the right to do and say as I fucking please.”

Blaine's jaw drops at the course language, never having heard anybody speak so bluntly. 

“Sue, you're scaring him,” an older man says. She rolls her eyes. The man turns to Blaine. “I'm Will. I'm one of the King’s concubines as well.”

Blaine nods and picks up a piece of bread, nibbling at the side. 

“Quiet one, aren't you?” Sue asks, and Blaine blushes.

“He's scared,” Brittany interjects. “I scared him, but I was trying to be nice, so he should probably get over it.”

Elliott sighs. “Britt-”

She huffs. “Well I was just being thoughtful! Emma liked it last night.”

“Oh god, what did you do?”

Brittany pouts. “I just sang to him and brushed his hair with my fingers, like Carole said to do.”

“That was very sweet of you honey,” he says, “But maybe you should have asked his permission first before climbing into bed with him?”

“Ha!” Sue chuckles and shakes her head.

Brittany pouts. “Everyone is mean this morning. I'm going out.”

She stands and walks toward a glass door surrounded by windows that Blaine hadn't previously noticed. 

“Don't mind Brittany,” Elliott says, his mouth full of bread. “She's been in a mood since the Prince left.”

“Elliott, come on,” Will says, shaking his head.

“What? He lives here now. He's going to find out eventually.”

“Let him find out when she wants him to find out, okay? These are Brittany's secrets we’re talking about.”

“I get the feeling she doesn't have many of those,” Blaine mumbles, still a little overwhelmed about his wake up. 

Sue raises an eyebrow at him. “So you do have a bit of bite. Good.”

“Regardless of how many people know her secrets,” Will continues as though he had never stopped, “it's still her decision whether or not she wants Blaine to know.” He turns to Blaine and gives him a tight smile. “She'll come around to you eventually. She has with everyone.”

Blaine nods and goes back to eating his food. He isn't entirely sure if Brittany coming around is something he's particularly excited for.

**

Over the rest of breakfast, Blaine learns that all of their meals are served to them in the concubine quarters, and that the kitchen is in fact rather close to the concubine quarters, only a couple of corridors away.

“The main cook is a little prickly,” Elliott tells him. “But for the most part she’s fine with people dropping in and making their own food, as long as they don’t get in her way. Her daughter is nice, though. She’ll probably love you.”

By the time the meal has finished and Blaine has excused himself to his room he has formed a sneaking suspicion that Elliott has decided to make Blaine his protégée, or something of the sort. The man has spent the entire meal telling Blaine everything about castle life that he can think of.

Elliott is nice, is the thing, but Blaine isn't entirely sure if he feels comfortable spending extended periods of time alone with him. He's the Prince’s concubine, after all. He knows it’s silly, but he can't help but compare himself to Elliott. To wonder what about Elliott made the Prince stop, stare, and take, while with Blaine he only stopped and stared.

He once again clears his thoughts as he places all of his clothing inside the closet available to him, coming nowhere near to filling it. He blushes as he hangs David’s sleep shirt between regular shirts of his own. He knows he must find a better place for it, somewhere more special, but he supposes this will do for now. He then lies in his bed for what feels like hours, staring at the ceiling and trying to get his thoughts in order.

It is still only morning and he feels beyond overwhelmed. His interaction with Brittany this morning, meeting two of the King’s other concubines, the trepidation he is feeling about meeting the infamous Sebastian who, according to different sources, will either adore him or despise him. Quite frankly he's surprised that Sue and Will didn't immediately despise him, considering the circumstances. It’s not as though the King has thousands of concubines to help dull the pain. Blaine doesn't know how he will feel when the King inevitably finds somebody younger than him. Kinship? Jealousy? 

These thoughts he allows himself to dwell upon. Thoughts of his future at the castle are far less dangerous than thoughts of his past in Westerville.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ rebloggable on tumblr ](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/142083891280/opportunity-of-a-lifetime-28)


	3. The First Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have some smut of the Burt/Blaine variety ;) a little bit of d/s undertones in this one. as always, please keep [ the warnings ](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/140753664325/a-night-with-the-king-warnings-masterpost) in mind! hope you enjoy :)

He must have fallen asleep, for soon he is being woken by a knock on his door and a quiet, “Blaine?”

Blaine sits up quickly, disoriented. He looks toward the door and tries to blink the figure into something beyond a blur. 

Elliott comes into focus. “Hey, did you fall asleep?” Elliott asks him. Blaine nods and rubs the sleep from his eyes. “I did the same thing my first morning in the castle. It's all pretty overwhelming, huh?”

Blaine nods and stifles a yawn.

Elliott chuckles. “Adorable. I see why the King wants you.”

Blaine stretches his arms over his head. “People keep saying that.”

“Because it's true. In fact, it's why I'm here. The King has requested your presence. Mason is waiting for you in the common room.”

Blaine wants to ask why Mason didn't just wake him up himself, but he feels he already knows the answer. “I will be out in a moment. I need to put on fresh clothes.”

“I don't think he will care much what you wear,” Elliott teases, then turns to leave, calling, “Hurry! Mason doesn't like to be kept waiting,” over his shoulder as he leaves.

Blaine dresses himself in what he believes are his nicest clothes, then takes a moment to attempt and control his hair. He stares at his reflection in the mirror. He can do this. He's done this before. With this man and one other (don't think about that, don't think about that). He knows what the King likes. This is what he's here for.

He turns away and goes to meet Mason.

**

Mason leads him through even more intertwining corridors, and Blaine sincerely hopes he will not be expected to make this journey alone anytime in the near future. Mason doesn't speak as they walk, though Blaine thinks he is already becoming accustomed to his silence. It's probably better this way. He doesn't think he'd be able to hold a conversation at the moment.

They arrive at a surprisingly small door, and Mason opens it, gesturing for Blaine to enter before him. Blaine does, curious as to why the entrance to the King’s quarters is less ornate than the one to his own.

It soon becomes apparent that it is because these are not the King’s quarters. In fact, it looks closer to a tailor shop than anything.

“Blaine,” he turns to find the King standing up from a large sofa in the corner of the the room. “You look even lovelier than you did the last time I saw you.”

He greets Blaine by taking Blaine’s chin in hand, tilting his head up and kissing him on the lips. Blaine responds in kind, still confused. Does the King expect them to be intimate in this room?

“I thought of you every day in Essex,” the King whispers. “I wanted to call upon you last night, but Mason informed me of your exhaustion.”

Blaine glances at Mason, who is looking away from them. Perhaps he misjudged him.

“I thought of you as well, your Majesty,” is all he can think to reply. The King seems appeased, smiling widely at him. 

“How do you find your quarters?” he asks, pulling Blaine close. He wraps one arm around Blaine's waist and cups his hip with his hand. It's possessive, though Blaine isn't sure why. It is only them and Mason.

“They are larger than my entire home in Westerville, your Majesty.”

The King chuckles. “Still so polite. I'll make you call me Burt one day, and that's a promise.”

Blaine chews on his bottom lip. He thinks of this morning, how Sue had so indelicately referred to the King by his given name. 

_I like my lovers to call me Burt._

He doesn't know how to respond. What is the appropriate response? “Sue does it and I do not want to think of being here as long as she has”? “I don't think I will ever call you Burt outside of our copulating, but thank you for the unwavering belief”? Safest to say nothing.

“Your Majesty,” Mason says, “Miss Cohen-Chang is here.”

“Wonderful,” the King says, taking only a small step away from Blaine, hand still firmly holding Blaine's hip. “Send her in.”

“If I may ask, your Majesty…” Blaine trails off, unsure. The King smiles.

“Miss Cohen-Chang is a tailor, best in the capital. I have invited her here because I want her to take your measurements.”

“My measurements?” Blaine repeats, unsure he has heard right.

“Of course. Not that I do not like the clothing you currently posses,” he strokes Blaine's hip as he says it, “But I enjoy pampering my concubines, and my son has taught me the importance of good fashion.”

A new wardrobe. The King is commissioning an entirely new wardrobe. For him.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” he says, overwhelmed. 

“No thanks needed. Just be kind to Miss Cohen-Chang,” he winks as he says it, and Blaine flushes at the tease.

“Of course, your Majesty.”

Blaine spends the better part of the next two hours standing perfectly still while the small Miss Cohen-Chang takes measurements of practically every part of his body. She chatters mindlessly as she works, and sometimes Blaine replies, but for the most part he tries to wrap his mind around the fact that he is getting fitted for an entirely new wardrobe. He has never had more than a new shirt at a time in his life. To suddenly receive so many clothes…

The King is called away twice during the session, and Blaine tries not to pay attention to the quiet murmurs he hears in the hallway. It is not in his best interest to know the details of the King’s professional life. He is determined to remain nothing but a concubine. 

_You could be King._

Blaine buries the memory, as he has been attempting to do for months. He focuses instead on being the perfect mannequin for Miss Cohen-Chang and making sure to laugh appropriately at her tales.

Finally Miss Cohen-Chang announces that she is finished with the measurements and that she will return the next day with fabric samples for the King and Blaine to look over. The King thanks her and presses a small but obviously full pouch of coins into her hands. She bows, thanks him, and hurries out.

“Come,” the King whispers in Blaine’s ear as soon as they are alone. “I have been burning with jealousy ever since she put her hands on you.”

The King leads Blaine out of the room and down even more intricate corridors. He keeps his hand on Blaine’s waist the entire time, and Blaine has to struggle to keep up with the larger strides the man makes. He attempts to make note of significant portraits or statues that they pass, but they move too quickly and make too many sharp turns. Blaine is quite sure he will never learn to navigate this place.

Eventually they arrive at the most ornate set of doors that Blaine has yet seen. There are guards on either side of the doors, and they each open the door closest to them when they see the King approaching. The King thanks them as he leads Blaine into what he is now sure are the King’s quarters.

The room he is led into looks like a smaller version of the common room in the concubine quarters. There are small sofas and chairs spread throughout the room, large windows line the walls, and several bookshelves, rugs, and a small table make up the rest of the empty space. 

There are two doors leading off the room - a small one, which Blaine assumes leads to a water closet, and a larger one, which can only lead one place.

The King leads him to the larger door. Blaine has to force his breathing to remain normal. He knows he can do nothing about his beating heart, but hopefully the King will not notice that.

As they enter the King’s bedroom, Blaine cannot help but feel panic. What if the King can tell he was with David? It was only two nights ago, after all. Perhaps Blaine is still stretched open? Or there are still traces of David inside him? 

What will the King do, he wonders, if he does discover. Past Kings have thrown unfaithful concubines to the street, some even going so far as to sentence them to death. Blaine hasn't heard of any such things from King Burt, but then again this King only has five concubines. It is very likely that none have been unfaithful to him. 

“You look as nervous as you did the first night,” the King says, stopping them before they reach the bed. He moves so he is standing in front of Blaine and brings his hands to Blaine's face. “There is no need to be anxious. You know what is to come.”

“It has been some time, your Majesty,” Blaine lies. 

“As has it been for me,” he caresses Blaine's cheeks with his thumbs. “I could think of nothing but you. Your eyes, your lips, your smile…” he smiles as he says it, and Blaine can't help but smile as well. “Your body,” the King continues, leaning in to kiss Blaine. He deviates the moment before their lips touch, instead moving to Blaine's jaw and kissing there. “Your ass.”

Blaine inhales sharply, and lets out a low moan as the King sucks on the spot where his jaw becomes his neck. 

“The beautiful noises you make,” the King continues. Blaine moans again, and the King brings his hands down to Blaine's ass, giving it a hard squeeze. 

“You are so lovely Blaine,” he tells Blaine, nipping at his jaw. “I am so glad that you are mine.”

“Yours,” Blaine agrees, though his traitorous mind whispers _and David’s._

The King kneads his ass harder and kisses down his neck. Blaine exhales sharply and forces himself to focus on the task at hand. 

He does not need to force himself to focus for long. The King soon has Blaine’s pants around his ankles and is pumping his cock leisurely, his fingers tickling the small hole between Blaine’s cheeks. It feels wonderful, and Blaine clenches the muscles in such a way that the King will notice. 

“Tease,” the King whispers against Blaine’s neck.

“You’re the tease,” Blaine says, feeling bold. The King separates his lips from Blaine’s neck and raises an eyebrow. 

“Am I?”

He cups Blaine’s thighs and lifts him. Blaine’s barely has time to kick away his pants before he is wrapping his legs around the King’s middle, letting out a small shout of surprise. The King carries him the few short steps to the bed, then drops him on it unceremoniously. 

It seems so long ago that Miss Cohen-Chang was taking his measurement. Blaine spreads his legs slightly, watching as the King unlaced his pants and breeches, lowering them to his thighs and releasing his cock.

Blaine bites his lip and spreads his legs wider, despite feeling a sudden desire to snap them shut.

“Now who’s teasing?” the King asks, crawling onto the bed and over Blaine. He begins to kiss him, hard and rough, hands framing Blaine’s face and keeping him there. Blaine kisses back as well as he can, though he cannot seem to match the King’s enthusiasm. That is something he will have to work on.

Although the foreplay has felt urgent, the King still takes a good amount of time to prepare Blaine. Blaine appreciates the thought, as do his muscles. Despite his fears it does not seem as though they are still open and relaxed.

“You feel so good,” the King murmurs as he slips on his protection. “Better that I remember.”

“As do you,” Blaine replies, breathless. The King crooks his fingers just so, then pulls them out and replaces them with his cock.

The gasp that Blaine lets out as he is penetrated is not exaggerated in the least. 

**

Blaine is sure the King will send him on his merry way as soon as they are done, but that is not the case. He pulls Blaine close and cuddles into him, pressing soft kisses against the back of Blaine’s neck. Blaine can feel the King’s softening cock against his leg, and even though he felt it the previous time they did this he still can’t help but find it strange. It’s too intimate, almost, to cuddle naked with the King.

He didn’t get to cuddle naked with David.

“Have you been practicing while I was gone?” the King whispers in Blaine’s ear. Blaine freezes instantly.

“I - I’m sorry?”

“You lasted longer,” the King clarifies. “Have you been working on your stamina while I was away?”

Blaine swallows thickly, images of David - on top of him, kissing him, inside him - entering his mind. “I may have practiced a little,” he whispers. 

“I would love to watch that someday,” the King says. “I can only imagine how beautiful you would look touching yourself for me.” He pulls Blaine closer and presses a kiss just under his jaw. “Have I mentioned how happy I am that you are mine?”

“You have, your Majesty, but it always pleases me to hear it again.”

That is the right thing to say, as the King lets out a loud moan and begins to suck on Blaine’s neck once again.

He is still incredibly sensitive, but that doesn’t stop his cock from stirring at the King’s ministrations. Blaine lets out a quiet groan, trying to think of an excuse not to do this again so soon. He knows he will need at least a small amount of time to rest in between.

His prayers are answered in the most horrific way possible.

The King’s hand is inching up Blaine’s thigh when the doors to the King’s bedroom burst open, followed by an annoyed, “You need to talk to your guards, Father, they were quite reticent to let me insid-”

Blaine’s eyes snap up to the man who has just entered the room, heart stopping when he sees the Prince standing in the doorway, eyes just as wide as Blaine’s.

Blaine jumps away from the King and ends up falling off a bed for the second time in one day. The Prince is still staring at him, and Blaine remembers that he is naked. He hurries to pull part of the blanket down to cover himself, but the King’s weight doesn’t allow for much give.

“Kurt,” the King says, surprisingly calm. “How many times do I have to tell you-”

“You,” the Prince says, cutting his father off. “You’re - what are you doing here?”

Blaine’s throat dries and he glances up to the King in search of his answer. The King is frowning at his son and holding a pillow in front of his lap.

“Kurt,” the King snaps. “Would you please excuse us? I will be with you in just one moment.”

“But-” his eyes never leave Blaine.

“Leave, Kurt.”

The Prince stays frozen for several seconds, then nods, says, “Sorry, Father,” and quickly exits the room.

The King sighs and leans over the edge of the bed, holding out a hand to help Blaine up. “I’m very sorry for my son’s behaviour,” he shakes his head. “No matter how many times I tell him that if the guards don’t let him in there is a reason for it he refuses to listen.”

“There is nothing to apologize for, your Majesty,” he says, unsure of what else to say.

“No, there is. That boy is always gallivanting about this castle, not paying any attention to anybody else, acting like he can do whatever he pleases because he is the Prince. I will speak to him and rest assured you will receive an apology from his mouth.”

“That is unnecessary, your Majesty,” Blaine hurries to say, panic shooting through him at the idea of speaking to the Prince, especially after this.

“It is necessary. He didn't only disrespect our privacy, he was rude to you. I will not stand for it.”

Blaine nods. There's no reason to argue.

“We should redress,” the King says after several seconds of silence. “I'm sure you must be hungry by now.”

“Only a little, your Majesty.”

The King smiles fondly. “I really will break you of that,” he teases, tapping Blaine on the nose. 

Blaine doesn't reply. He feels he will do that a lot with the King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ rebloggable on tumblr ](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/142475979425/opportunity-of-a-lifetime-38)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to dedicate this chapter to the lovely lalalenii who was looking forward to Sebastian's first appearance ;) as always, please keep [ the warnings for this fic ](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/140753664325/a-night-with-the-king-warnings-masterpost) in mind. hope you all enjoy, and happy friday :)

Mason is standing outside the King’s room when they exit, and the King gives Blaine one final lingering kiss. Blaine responds, though shyly, entirely aware of the page and two guards watching them. 

When they part it’s in separate directions, with Mason returning Blaine to the concubine quarters. Once again Blaine attempts to pay attention to where they are going but soon finds himself lost. As usual, Mason doesn’t speak, but it does not feel as awkward to Blaine anymore. Not after knowing what Mason did for him.

They arrive at the concubine quarters after what feels like ten minutes of silent walking. 

“You better figure out how to do this on your own soon,” Mason tells him as he opens the doors to the common room. “I can’t be dragging you around the castle at the King’s every whim.”

Blaine nods. Then says, quietly, “Thank you.”

“I’m only doing my job,” Mason says, rolling his eyes.

Blaine shakes his head. “No. Not for that.”

“Oh.” Mason glances past Blaine, then shrugs. “Well. Here you are.”

Blaine smiles. He may learn to like Mason just yet. He thanks him one last time and enters the common room.

He only takes three steps before he runs into another body. He puts his hands on the shoulders to steady himself as the man he ran into says, “Easy there.”

Blaine looks up and is met with a tall man staring down at him and wearing a dangerous smirk.

“Sorry,” Blaine whispers, looking away.

The man clucks his tongue and brings two fingers up to Blaine’s chin. He uses them to tilt Blaine’s face to the side, revealing more of his neck. 

“Interesting,” the man says. “He didn’t fuck me after I got my measurements done.”

Blaine blushes bright red and takes a step back. “How do you -”

“Your neck,” the man gestures, smirks still firmly in place but eyes less playful than earlier. Blaine thinks back on how the King was sucking on his neck less than an hour earlier and slaps a hand over each side of his neck. 

“Is there food?” Blaine asks, eager to end this encounter. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“Yes, I’m sure all that fucking will have worked up your appetite,” the man sneers. Blaine looks down at his feet. Another thing he does not think he will ever become accustomed to is the foul language the other concubines seem to use.

“Knock it off, Sebastian,” Elliott intervenes, putting a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Blaine, I saved you a plate. We ate about an hour ago.”

Sebastian. Of course.

Blaine hurries to follow Elliott to the table. Unfortunately for him Sebastian follows them.

“So how old are you?” Sebastian asks, sitting down opposite Blaine. Elliott sits beside Blaine and hands him a plate piled high with sandwiches and vegetables. 

“Seventeen,” Blaine says quietly, picking up a sandwich and taking a small bite. 

“Huh. I was eighteen when the King chose me,” Sebastian plucks a carrot off Blaine’s plate. “Seems the older he gets the younger he likes them.”

“I told you to knock it off Sebastian,” Elliott snaps. “Emma didn’t give you this much trouble when you arrived. Nor did Will or Sue.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry, Blaine,” he says, leaning forward and giving him an entirely unapologetic smile. “I guess I’m just used to being the baby around here. You’ll have to forgive me.”

Blaine doesn’t say anything, focusing on the food before him. 

“What’s his deal?” Sebastian asks, the question aimed at Elliott. “Does he not like speaking or something?”

“He just arrived here last night,” Elliott replies. 

Sebastian scoffs. “Obviously, seeing as I’ve never seen him before.”

“So maybe show him a little bit of sympathy,” Elliott continues, as though Sebastian had not spoken. “I don’t exactly remember you being a social butterfly when you arrived.”

Sebastian sends Elliott a glare, then one to Blaine as well, and slumps in his chair. He doesn’t leave as Blaine expected him to, and so Blaine eats in silence, keeping his eyes on his food and attempting to ignore the feel of Sebastian’s eyes on him.

He finishes the plate of food far faster than he usually would, and gives Elliott a smile when he does. “Thank you,” he says. “It was delicious.”

“Thank the cook,” is Elliott’s reply. “She makes sure we always have the best to eat.”

“And the healthiest of foods, don’t forget,” Sebastian adds, sitting up a little straighter. “Can’t have the King and Prince’s concubines getting out of shape, now can we?”  
Blaine wonders if that’s a jibe at the small pouch of fat at the bottom of his stomach and he blushes at the implication, his hand falling over it protectively. Sebastian grins wickedly.

“Stop it,” Elliott says. “I’m serious, Sebastian. You’re making him uncomfortable. Stop.”

Blaine clears his throat. “Thank you for saving me this food, Elliott,” he says, standing. “I think I will retire to my room now.”

“So soon? There is still time in the day,” Sebastian stands as well. “Don’t you want to be shown the gardens? There is a marvellous lake only a half hour away on horseback.” He raises both eyebrows as Blaine glances longingly at the door leading to his quarters. “Or is it perhaps that you have no interest in seeing any of the castle besides the King’s chambers?”

There’s a scoff from the other side of the room, and Blaine turns to see Brittany standing up from one of the couches. He hadn’t even noticed she was in the room.

“Sebastian, why are you being so mean?” she asks, walking over to them. “He may have been ungrateful for the relaxation I attempted to give him this morning, but there is no need to be cruel.”

“I’m just being myself, Britt,” Sebastian says, smirking. “The King likes that I’m feisty,” he directs this to Blaine.

Blaine recalls Sue telling the King hadn’t taken somebody submissive in some time. He desperately wishes he could retreat to his room.

“You’re acting like a jealous spouse,” Brittany bites, and Sebastian winces. Elliott winces as well, and Blaine wonders which word it is that was meant to insult. “If I can continue being kind to those around me, so can you.”

“This is different, Britt.”

“It’s no different,” Brittany says, then spins on her heel and marches off, disappearing behind a door on the opposite side of the common room.

Elliott sighs and rubs his forehead with his hand. “I’m going to talk to her,” he says, then points a finger at Sebastian. “Behave.”

He follows Brittany, and soon Sebastian and Blaine are alone. 

Blaine takes a step toward his chambers but Sebastian stops him by putting a hand on his arm. “It won’t last,” he whispers.

“What?” Blaine asks, quiet, unsure if he wants to know the answer.

“The King’s affection,” Sebastian replies. “It happened to Sue, then to Will, then to Emma, and now to me. It will happen to you as well.” He snorts and looks off to the left, an angry sneer on his face. “There’s always somebody younger and better. Just remember that.”

Blaine swallows thickly. “I didn’t ask for this,” he whispers. Then he shakes off Sebastian’s hold on his arm and hurries to his chambers before Sebastian can reply.

**

Blaine stays in his chambers, lying on his bed and staring at the canopy that hangs atop the posts of his bed. 

He thinks he dozes off at some point, but he can't be sure. Mostly he thinks of the events of the day, of Sebastian's jealousy and Brittany's attempts to help, of how his ass still aches hours after his encounter with the King. He is thankful that the ache isn't as bad as it was the first time, but then again this is the fourth time he's had sex. It's bound to get easier.

 _Third time_. He repeats the mantra over and over. _If anybody asks you've only had sex three times, each with the King._

His thoughts are finally interrupted when the sun has descended and he is truly preparing himself for sleep. There is a knock on his door, and Blaine finishes slipping his sleep breeches on before going to answer.

It's Elliott on the other side, and he raises both eyebrows high. “Oh, are you preparing for bed? Dinner has just been delivered. I was hoping you would join us.”

Blaine glances behind Elliott, as though that will give him some form of insight as to who is in the common room. “Will Sebastian be there?” he asks, cautious. 

“Yes,” Elliott says, looking sympathetic. “We try and eat dinner together every night, all of us concubines.”

Blaine looks down at the ground and worries the hem of his sleep shirt between two fingers. “I’m quite tired,” he says quietly. “But thank you for the invitation.”

Elliott bends his knees so that he is at the same eye level as Blaine. “Please come,” he says, voice gentle. “Sue and Will will be there, and they won’t let Sebastian say anything, I promise.”

Blaine deliberates. He truly is not very hungry, and he’s quite tired. At the same time, these are the people he will spend the largest majority of his time with for a large amount of his future. He does not wish to make a bad impression on them.

Finally he nods. “Give me a couple of minutes to change into something more decent,” Blaine says, but Elliott stops him with a hand on his arm.

“You needn’t worry about that,” he assures, smiling. “Many of us eat dinner in our sleep clothes. In fact, I believe Brittany and Emma are doing so tonight.”

“But it’s my first dinner here, and-”

“Please, Blaine. You needn’t worry. Come dine with us.”

Blaine deliberates a little more, the comfort of his new bed, so far the best thing about his situation, calling to him. He sighs, and nods.

“Alright, I will join you. But not for very long. I truly am very tired.”

“We understand,” Elliott says, placing a hand low on Blaine’s back and leading him to the common room. Blaine is thankful for the point of contact as it helps him feel grounded. 

They enter the common room and head for the large table, already surrounded by people, two of which Blaine has yet to meet. One of them is a petite woman with bright red hair who is sitting between Brittany and Will and having a quiet conversation with the former. Blaine deduces that this is Emma, whom he’s heard much about. 

At the end of the table, separated from the larger group, is a blond man who looks to be around forty. He is barely picking at his food, but in the few seconds that Blaine looks at him he sees him taking two very generous sips from a small leather flask that is placed next to his plate. 

He has to admit that he is confused as to who this man is. He’s been told several times that the King only has five concubines, and he knows that Sue, Will, Emma, and Sebastian are all concubines of the King. Including him, that makes five. He is also aware that Brittany and Elliott are the only two concubines of the Prince. He has met everybody else, except for Emma of course, and none of them are this man.

He sits at the end of the larger group, several seats away from the blond man, next to Brittany. Elliott sits across from him. Sebastian sends him a smirk and Will smiles at him. 

“Blaine,” Will says, handing down a plate of what looks like roast beef. “We’re so glad you could join us.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sebastian says, then yelps and glares at Brittany. “ _Ow_ ,” he says, lowering a hand under the table. Blaine glances at Brittany, who smiles at him privately. Blaine cannot help but return the smile. 

“Be nice,” Will chides, though his eyes are on Sebastian and not Brittany. 

“She kicked me,” Sebastian accuses, pointing at Brittany. She frowns innocently.

“Did I?”

“You deserved it,” Sue says. “Stop being a little bitch and eat your veggies.”

Sebastian glares at her but does as he’s told. Blaine places some of the meat on his plate, then passes it over to Elliott.

As the vegetables are passed his way he makes eye contact with Emma. She smiles when their eyes meet, but Blaine can tell there’s a nervous quality about her. Like she doesn’t really want to be here. Brittany takes the vegetables from Emma and gives them to Blaine. As soon as the vegetables are out of her hands Emma looks down at her own plate and begins to take small bites of her food.

He glances to the man at the end of the table as he places more food on his own plate. He then passes the vegetables to Elliott and leans close to Brittany.

“Brittany,” he whispers. She looks away from where she’d been paying attention to the conversation Sue and Will are having at the end of the table. 

“Blaine,” she replies, smiling, obviously proud that she remembers his name. 

Blaine smiles back, then quietly asks, “Who is the man at the end of the table?”

Brittany glances past him, then shrugs. “That’s just Bryan.”

She turns away from him, seeming to think that that is the end of the conversation. Blaine feels more confused than before, however, and looks down at his plate, piled far too high with food. He wants to ask Brittany more about the man, but her dismissal at his original question makes him hesitate.

He feels a tap against his ankle and he looks up to see Elliott giving him a strange look. “You okay?” he mouths. Blaine forces a smile and nods. Elliott does not look convinced.

Blaine eats several forkfuls of food, wanting to get out of this situation as fast as possible. He feels like the odd man out, like he shouldn’t be here. He hasn’t earned his place at this table yet. Really, he should be sitting at the end with the mysterious Bryan.

He wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t very hungry, and soon enough he’s completely full despite there still being a large amount of food on his plate. He starts to shuffle it around his plate, glancing at the door leading to his chamber every so often. If his bed were calling his name before now it is positively screaming it. He is absolutely exhausted and he would love to get out from under Sebastian’s gaze, which he feels upon him far more often than not. 

He knows that Elliott is looking at him too, and he tries very desperately to pay attention to any one of the conversations around the table, but he can’t seem to take in even what Brittany and Emma are saying directly beside him. He doesn’t know these people, he is extremely underdressed, Sebastian won’t stop sneering at him, the food is far richer than he is accustomed to, and really he just wants to go to sleep. 

He is halfway through coming up with an excuse to leave the table before anybody else when he hears Will say something to Sue that catches his attention. 

“I saw Carole while I was out riding today. She looked well.”

Blaine looks up, attempting to keep a neutral expression. He does not know who this Carole is, but Will saw her while he was _riding_. Which means that concubines are allowed to ride. They are allowed to have hobbies outside of reading in the common room and dining together.

The conversation seems to revolve around Carole rather than what Blaine is truly interested in, which unfortunately does not give Blaine any more information. Is Will only allowed to ride because he is an older concubine? Will Blaine have to wait until the King has found a younger, more attractive concubine before he is allowed to indulge in hobbies? 

He desperately hopes not, for he so deeply wishes to learn to ride. 

There’s a clatter from the end of the table and Blaine turns to look as Bryan stands up with a wobble, hand falling into his still half-full plate of food in his attempt to steady himself. His eyes meet Blaine’s, glossy and distant. Blaine swallows thickly as the man shakes the food off his hand and staggers his way to the door directly opposite Blaine’s.

The table remains silent until Bryan has disappeared behind the door. Blaine glances at Elliott, who is chewing on the inside of his cheek with sympathy in his eyes. Eyes going to Sebastian, he finds him looking directly at his plate, eyes far too focused, clearly uncomfortable. 

A hand comes to Blaine’s elbow and he turns to see Brittany smiling at him.

“It’s okay,” she says. “He’s just going to bed.”

That seems to relieve the tension at the table, and soon the conversations have started up again. 

Blaine finds his eyes going back to the door Bryan disappeared behind. If he lives in the concubine quarters, then he must be a concubine. His older age implies that he is a concubine of the King, but he was told…

He stands. “I must excuse myself,” he says softly. “I feel the beginning of a migraine.”

Brittany’s hand goes to his arm once more. “I have special herbs to remedy those, if you would like.”

Blaine smiles at her in thanks. “I appreciate the offer, but I think it will be best if I simply sleep this one off.”

“Do you want me to walk you to your room?” Elliott asks, starting to stand as well. Blaine puts up a hand and shakes his head.

“I will be all right, thank you.”

He glances at his half-full plate, unsure of what to do with it. 

“Do not worry,” Sue speaks up. “The servants come and get it once we’re all done.”

Blaine nods, though it feels more like a bow. He pushes his chair in and starts the walk to his room, careful not to go too fast, fully aware of all the eyes on him.

He is almost at the door when he hears, “Do you want me to walk you to your room?” higher pitched than it was when Elliott asked. “Give me a break, Elliott.” The voice is at a regular pitch this time, and Blaine recognizes it as Sebastian’s.

“What?” Elliott asks, voice harder than Blaine has heard it until now. “I’m being kind and accommodating. I can’t be the only person who remembers how difficult it was to acclimate to the castle.”

Sebastian scoffs. “You’re babying him.”

Blaine freezes, his hand on the doorknob to his quarters. 

“Sebastian-” Brittany sounds angry as well, but Sebastian cuts her off.

“No, he is. You all know it. None of us had somebody to hold our hand through our moves here. He’s already too skittish, too submissive. If you don’t quit it we’re going to have another Emma on our hands in no time.”

Hands slam on the table and Blaine turns to see Will standing, hands spread wide on the wood of the tabletop, eyes glaring murderously at Sebastian.

“That’s enough!” he shouts. 

“Sebastian,” Sue says, voice dripping with venom. “I think it’s time you went to bed.”

Blaine doesn’t stay to listen to the rest of the exchange. He turns the doorknob quickly and hurries into the hallway leading to his chamber. 

He makes a brief stop in the water closet, brushing his teeth and relieving himself, then finally manages to slip into the comfort of his new bed. His heart is beating quickly in his chest from what he just overheard in the common room, and he has to take many deep breaths to calm himself.

The history between all of these people is deep. They have mutual friends, friends Blaine doesn’t yet know. They know each other’s pasts, each other's stories and secrets. They know enough about each other to know how to cut deep. 

It may only be his second night, but Blaine feels as though he will never have the same bond with the rest as they seem to have with each other. He feels he is forever fated to be alone, leaving dinner early, sitting in silence as the others talk around him. 

Perhaps it is better like that. There are things about himself he does not want the others, especially Sebastian, knowing.

He sits up a little in his bed, eyes going to his closet. He thinks on David’s sleep shirt, and for one brief second is tempted to walk to the closet and put it on. 

The moment passes and Blaine curls back into his bed, an invisible weight settling on his chest. He can’t quite discern the feeling, whether it’s sadness, loneliness, or a combination of both. 

It doesn’t matter. Blaine turns onto his side, curls the plush blanket closer around him, and forces himself to empty his mind until he is finally drifting off to sleep.

**

That night Blaine dreams that he is atop a beautiful white horse. He is riding through an endless wheat field, the wind blowing his curls in every which way. Suddenly, there is another horse beside him, its rider wearing a helmet that entirely conceals their face and full body armour.

They ride together for what feels like hours, until the unknown rider pulls the reigns on their horse and stops. Blaine stops as well, turning to look at his faceless friend. The rider steps off the horse and holds out a hand to Blaine. Blaine looks over his shoulder and sees the castle behind him, the King standing on the steps, motionless, staring vacantly ahead. 

Blaine knows he should turn around and go to the King. Instead, he jumps off the horse and takes the rider’s hand. 

The iron of the rider’s armour evaporates, leaving only soft, pink skin. Their fingers lace together, a perfect fit. Blaine looks up, breath catching in his throat when he sees the Prince smiling at him, helmet gone, brown hair rustling in the wind. 

The Prince pulls him close, presses his mouth to Blaine’s forehead. Quietly, he whispers, “It’s you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ rebloggable on tumblr ](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/142859061565/opportunity-of-a-lifetime-48)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have some klaine ya'll ;) happy friday! as always, please keep [ the warnings for this fic ](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/140753664325/a-night-with-the-king-warnings-masterpost) in mind!

There’s a hand shaking his shoulder, and Blaine grumbles as one of his eyes cracks open. The sun hits it and he instantly shuts it again, hissing.

“Blaine, come on,” a voice whispers, soft and sweet. Blaine rolls over and opens one eye once again. Thankfully this time the sun doesn’t immediately assault him. He must remember to close the curtains around his bed before he goes to sleep tonight. 

Brittany is in his bed again, her hand still shaking his shoulder. He sits up slowly, a hand coming up to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“Hello, Brittany,” he says, voice groggy. “Should I expect you in my bed once again tomorrow morning?”

She ignores his comment, instead smiling widely and saying, “I’m taking you riding.”

He feels far more awake all of a sudden. “What?”

“I saw how you looked last night at dinner, when Will mentioned riding. Well, he was really talking about Carole, but you don’t know Carole, so I know that what interested you was the part about riding.”

Blaine stares at her. “Oh,” he says. “Um. How did I look?”

“Like this,” she ducks her head, then raises it extremely quickly, eyes wide and lips parted. Blaine blushes, embarrassed. He didn’t think he’d been that obvious.

“I see.”

“So, come on,” she says, shaking his shoulder. “Everyone likes going for rides after breakfast, so really the best time to go is just as the sun rises. If we go now we’ll get good horses.”

“Are we… that is, am I…” he glances down at his hands, unsure if she will mock him for asking if he is allowed to go riding. He does not wish to cause trouble on only his third day in the castle.

He clears his throat and looks her in the eye. “I don’t even know how to ride,” he admits.

“It’s easy,” she says, still smiling. “I’ll teach you!”

“I-” he doesn’t quite know what to say. He desperately wants to go riding, but he isn’t exactly sure that he wants to go riding with Brittany.

“Come on,” she says, pulling on his arm in an attempt to get him out from under the covers. “Let’s go before all the good horses are gone.”

He lets her drag him out of bed and to his closet. She starts to rifle through it, clucking her tongue and quietly mumbling about how he has no good riding clothes. “You should mention that you wish to learn to ride to the King,” she says absently as she tosses him his loosest pair of breeches. “That way he can order proper riding attire for you.”

She moves to the shirts and starts to rifle through them. She frowns as her eyes fall on one and Blaine feels his heart fall into his stomach when she pulls out David’s sleep shirt.

“This looks a little large for you,” she says, eyeing it as though a species from another planet. 

“It’s a sleep shirt,” Blaine hurries to say. “I must have placed it there by accident.”

She glances at him, one eyebrow raised, then shrugs and places it back on the rack, pulling out the shirt next to it and tossing it to Blaine.

“There. Now get dressed and meet me at the door to the garden as soon as you can.”

Blaine does as he’s told, though he waits until Brittany has left the room to do so. He feels sluggish in his movements, confused and still struggling to awaken completely. He wonders if he will ever be allowed to wake up at his own leisure. At the bakery…

His eyes go to David’s sleep shirt as he ties the strings on his breeches. He moves to it, pinching the fabric between two fingers. 

Soft. Just as it was when he peeled it from David’s body.

He shudders and drops the small bit of shirt he holds, hurrying to finish dressing. He then makes a brief trip to the water closet and goes to meet Brittany, desperate to get the memory of David’s body out of his mind.

**

Brittany is waiting for him at the entrance to the garden. She’s facing the glass, the sun hitting her body in a way that makes her look almost luminescent. He almost doesn’t want to let her know that he has arrived.

Still, he is awake, and she has promised she will teach him to ride a horse, and he cannot deny that he is at least excited about that.

He clears his throat to announce his presence. She turns to him, smiling softly.

“I love these windows,” she says, gesturing to them. She looks away from him, eyes going back to the gardens. “When I was first moved to these quarters I would move one of the comfy chairs over here,” she gestures to where she’s standing. “I would just stare out the window for hours.”

Blaine looks past her, out into the gardens. The light hits everything in such a lovely way, almost making it look surreal. The flowers look brighter, the grass seems greener, and the path leading beyond what he can see almost seems to glow. 

“I understand why,” he whispers. 

She gives him a short, but still incredibly sweet, smile, and then reaches down and takes his hand. “Come on,” she says. “I want to ride Daisy and I’m worried someone will steal her from me.”

**

The walk to the stables is absolutely breathtaking. Blaine tries to take in all the wonderful scenery around him as Brittany chatters inanely about her favorite horse, Daisy, but he finds that there is simply too much for him to properly do so. Every detail of the royal gardens fights for his attention, and he wishes he had eyes on every part of his head so that he could take it all in.

 _You live here now_ , he keeps reminding himself. _There’s no need to take it all in this instant. Apparently you are allowed to roam the castle grounds as you please. You can come out again tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. You_ can _take it all in_.

The reminder does not stop him from looking around eagerly with every step they take. Every now and again he catches sight of gardeners trimming bushes or watering flowers. He thinks that if he were not a concubine, but he were still made to live in the castle, that is what he would want to do. Spend every day in this paradise, surrounding himself with constant beauty. Oh, how he envies those men and women.

Although, perhaps he need not envy him. From what he has seen thus far of the other concubines, and from his own personal experience, he can easily assume that he will not, in fact, have other duties besides pleasing the King. He resolves then and there to spend as much time as he can spare in these gardens. 

The closer they get to the stables, the more bounce there seems to be in Brittany’s steps.

“These aren’t the official stables,” she explains when a brown barn appears from behind a curtain of trees. “These horses are for entertainment, not work. It was Kurt’s idea.”

The way she says Kurt is so informal, as though they are friends and not Prince and concubine. Blaine cannot imagine ever calling the King ‘Burt’ to anybody else. He can barely bring himself to call the King by his given name when it is only the two of them.

“Daisy is my favorite, obviously,” she says. “She’s one of Kurt’s horses. He always rides her if he can, but when…” she trails off, eyes going to the ground. 

“When?” Blaine prompts, not liking the new darker energy that has descended upon them. 

She bites her lip and keeps her eyes on the path beneath their feet. “When we ride together he always lets me ride her.”

Blaine feels his heart skip a beat in his chest. “He sounds kind,” he whispers, the image of the Prince staring at him with wide, blue eyes as Blaine scrambled to cover his naked body mixing in his mind with the soft smile the Prince of his dream gave him.

As he did for the majority of the previous day, Blaine pushes the thoughts aside. He finds he is growing better at ignoring things that he does not want to think about. It’s as though he has created a box in his brain where he can store all of the memories he would rather forget, and has thrown away the key to it. He firmly pushes the memory of his brief encounter with the Prince into that box, along with his beautiful dream, and attempts to focus on the present. 

“He is,” Brittany says softly, a certain wistfulness to her voice that Blaine does not think he wants to understand. She turns to him, eyes slightly glossy looking, and smiles. 

“You will have to ride Buttercup,” she says, and it is as though the Prince was never mentioned. “She is the oldest and the least likely to buck you off. You wouldn’t want that, not for your first ride.”

“Of course not,” Blaine says, happy with the new subject. Brittany begins to prattle on again and Blaine half listens to her, paying more attention the stables now directly in front of them, large and brown and smelling like the absolute pits. 

He has to admit, he’s excited.

When they enter the stable, Brittany instantly begins to wave good morning to every stable hand she sees. They all seem to know her well and wish her a good morning as well, bowing slightly and smiling like they are old friends. 

Perhaps they are. Blaine would not know.

There is a woman standing in front of one of the horses, wearing some of the most excellent riding clothing that Blaine has ever seen. She is petting the horse’s nose and speaking to it in a hushed tone. 

Brittany almost jumps out of her skin when she sees her.

“Carole!” she shouts, hurrying to her. The woman turns and opens her arms just in time to receive an armful of excited girl.

“Will mentioned he’d seen you, but I didn’t think I’d get to see you so soon as well!”

The older woman smiles at the younger, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead and then pulling her back, giving her a look over. “Oh, Brittany, you look as lovely as ever.”

Brittany giggles, steadying her swaying body by gripping the woman’s elbows. “So do you! Please, Carole, you cannot go away on such long expeditions again!”

“You know wherever the King goes so must I,” the woman, Carole, says, cupping Brittany’s cheek with a hand. “I must admit, though, that I am glad to be back.” She looks over Brittany’s shoulder. “Brittany, who is your friend?”

Blaine blushes and steps forward, extending a hand, unsure of what else to do. “My name is Blaine, ma’am - um - my Lady?” he winces at his own awkwardness and uncertainty. Despite Brittany’s casual address, this woman seems powerful. She must be a lady of some sort. Most definitely nobility.

The woman looks at him as though she finds him strange, but also slightly amusing. Brittany leans in and whispers, “He is the King’s new concubine.”

The woman, the Lady, turns to look at him, her mouth slightly parted. She takes a step toward him and gives him a looking over.

“You're so young,” she whispers. She smiles when her eyes meet Blaine. “And so beautiful,” she continues speaking in a hushed voice. “I understand why the King wanted you.”

Blaine ducks his head, unsure if ‘thank you’ is the correct response. He still murmurs it anyway, adding a quiet “my Lady”.

She chuckles. “Please, Carole will do.”

Brittany is hanging onto Carole's arm, head leaning on her shoulder. “You _are_ a Lady though,” she says, giggling. “Lady Hudson.”

“I don't think I quite qualify as a Lady, Brittany,” she says, patting one of Brittany’s hands.

“Well, you can't be ‘Sir’!” Brittany teases. “All the other women knights are called Lady.”

Blaine's lips part in surprise. “You… You're a knight?”

Lady Hudson nods, a small smile on her lips. 

Brittany says, “She won't say it because she's modest, but she's the best knight in the kingdom! She is very close to the King. He always requests she travel with him!”

Blaine tries to think if he saw Lady Hudson at any point during the procession or during his journey to the castle. But of course he didn't. He was too busy staring at…

He blushes and bows. “My Lady,” she says. “I know you must be the most brave and noble knight to be in such high favor with the King.”

Lady Hudson chuckles. “So polite,” she says. “Now, Blaine, was it?” he looks up and nods. “None of this bowing is necessary. To you, I am Carole. I am close friends with all of the concubines, and I hope you will not be an exception.”

Blaine feels his cheeks redden further. “That would quite the honour, My Lady.”

Lady Hudson raises an eyebrow, still smiling. “I must say the same about you, Blaine.”

“Oh, Carole, you should teach Blaine how to ride!”

“Brittany!” Blaine hisses, thoroughly embarrassed. The thought of him, a lowly baker boy from Westerville, being trained how to ride by a _knight_ , well, it's almost indecent. 

“I would very much love to teach Blaine to ride, Brittany. You know I will take any excuse to ride,” she smiles apologetically at Blaine. “Unfortunately I am still quite tired from the long journey. I simply came to say hello to Daisy here, and then I will be returning to bed.” She gives them each a tender smile, one Blaine does not feel he has deserves. “The King has been kind enough to offer me a week-long respite from my duties.”

“You deserve it,” Brittany instantly gushes. She turns to Blaine and says, “I watched the Tournament last year with Kurt. Carole was far better than any of the knights from the other Kingdoms.”

Blaine thinks he remembers mention of a Lady Hudson winning a Tournament held in York in the papers. He feels even more honoured to be in her presence now.

“Brittany, you know you shouldn't call the Prince by his given name in front of others,” Lady Hudson whispers. Blaine lets out a small sigh of relief at the chastising. 

Brittany seems unfazed. “Oh, but it's just us here!” she says. “Besides, Kurt told me he does not like being called His Highness or Prince Kurt or any of those things.” Her smile slowly fades as she looks down at the ground. “Of course, he has said other things that turned out not to be true,” her face looks downtrodden, but her tone is angry. As though she has been betrayed.

“Oh, honey,” Lady Hudson pulls Brittany into a hug. “I know this must all be hard for you.”

For the hundredth time since his arrival in the castle, Blaine feels incredibly out of his depth. 

Brittany doesn't respond, just curls further into Lady Hudson's hug. Blaine stands awkwardly next to them, trying to think of something to say.

He comes up with nothing.

“If you ever need to talk,” Lady Hudson whispers to Brittany, though not low enough for Blaine not to hear. “You know where my chambers are.”

“I know,” Brittany says. “It was just… easier. Before.”

“I know, honey. I know.”

Lady Hudson glances at Blaine and smiles at him, eyes seeming to convey that she knows how awkward this must be for him and that she is sorry. Blaine smiles back, though he is uncertain as he does so. He still feels as though he should remain bowed every moment he is in the presence of this woman.

Lady Hudson’s eyes widen slightly, her gaze moving past Blaine, and the smiles falls off her lips. She shifts Brittany out of her arms and Brittany turns to look as well, her face becoming stony. Blaine turns to look behind him, curious as to what has made them react this way. 

His heart skips a beat when he sees Prince Kurt standing behind him, fully dressed in riding gear. 

The Prince approaches them slowly, as though he is cautious about doing so. 

“Lady Hudson,” he greets first, bowing his head to her. She bows hers as well. “I'm surprised to see you here. I was told you were on leave.”

“I simply came to say hello to Daisy,” she says, gesturing to the horse. 

“I understand. I came for Daisy myself,” he smiles, then turns to Brittany. “Brittany,” he bows his head as well, which causes Blaine's lips to part. 

“Your Highness,” Brittany replies, voice cold as ice. The Prince winces, but seems to accept it. 

His gaze turns to Blaine and he greets him with a soft, “Blaine,” that sends shivers down Blaine's spine. 

He bows deeply, murmuring, “Your Highness,” as he does so.

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he asks, and Blaine’s heart skips several beats.

He simply stares for several moments, the Prince’s steel blue eyes boring into his own, so similar to how they did at the procession so many months ago. 

Blaine swallows thickly, and finally nods. “Yes, of course.”

The Prince’s eyes go to Brittany once more and he asks, “Could you wait for me? I would like to speak to you as well.”

Brittany shrugs, as though she desperately does not want to, but nods anyway. 

Blaine understands the feeling.

The Prince starts walking toward an empty corner of the stables, and Blaine cautiously follows. He keeps glancing back at Brittany and Lady Hudson, but each time finds them in deep conversation with each other rather than watching him. 

Once there is enough room between them and everybody else, the Prince turns to him and speak.

“I would like to apologize for my actions yesterday.”

Blaine feels his lips part in surprise. He knows the King told him that he would speak to the Prince about the intrusion the previous day, but he did not think it would happen so soon. To be quite frank, he did not think about it at all. The large majority of his time lying in bed was spent trying not to think of his brief encounter with the Prince.

Even if he had allowed himself to dwell upon this, never in a thousand years could he have expected this encounter to actually take place. He was sure that the Prince would merely tell his father that he would apologize to his concubine in order to appease him. Of course, if the King asked if the Prince had actually apologized Blaine would insist he had, even if no apology had ever been made. 

Yet here Blaine is, staring at the Prince with his mouth open like a fool, eyes wide, trapped in his own thoughts. He cannot think of a word to say. Simply being in this man’s presence seems to be causing his brain to malfunction. 

“I should have knocked,” the Prince continues, clearly oblivious to Blaine’s inner thoughts. “And when I saw you, I should have…” he purses his lips. “I was rude to you. I should not have been. I apologize.”

The Prince stares at Blaine, eyes piercing as deep into his soul as they did the day of the procession. Like that day, Blaine feels frozen in place, the sound of his own heartbeat roaring in his ears. 

If the Prince expects an eloquent response, he will be sorely disappointed, this much Blaine knows for certain. He breathes out a quiet, “Oh,” which seems to be the only thing he can say.

The Prince shifts his weight on his feet and stands up straighter, the action causing his shoulders to appear broader, his waist slimmer. Blaine forces himself to stare into the Prince’s eyes, not wanting to be caught lusting after the son of the King, and by the son of the King no less. The problem is, looking into the Prince’s eyes does not seem to fare him any better. His eyes are strong and expressive, incredibly serious and incredibly deep. It frightens Blaine how important this apology seems to be to the Prince.

“What can I do to prove to you that I am truly sorry?” the Prince asks. “I do not want us to be on bad terms.”

Blaine stares up at him, lips still parted, mind attempting to process what the Prince is saying. It is hard enough to think about anything other than the fact that he is _talking to the Prince_. Though, thinking on it for a moment, Blaine is unsure why anything surprises him anymore. He is living in the royal palace as the King’s concubine. Nothing could be more unexpected than that.

“Why?” Blaine’s mouth speaks before his brain can stop him. He’s attempting to catch up on his thoughts, which seem to be stuck on the memory of sleeping with the King and how nothing should surprise him after that. His mouth seems to be several steps ahead.

“Why what?” the Prince asks, brows furrowing, causing a pinched, confused look to overcome his face. He still manages to look absolutely lovely.  
Blaine really, truly, needs to stop lusting after the King’s son. 

He purses his lips and forces himself to focus on the conversation at hand. He thinks of his words this time, not wanting to blurt out anything else. 

“I am a mere concubine,” he says eventually, eyes going to the ground. “Your father’s fifth. Before I was a simple baker in the small town of Westerville. You… You are the Crown Prince.”

He does not think he needs to explain further, expecting the Prince to agree with him and send him back to Brittany and Lady Hudson. 

Instead, the Prince is silent for several moments, then quietly says, “Do you think that means you do not merit an apology?”

Blaine shrugs. “I - I did not think you were being rude,” he admits. “In fact, I should probably apologize for appearing so indecent in front of you. Please, Your Highness, forgive me.”

He bows at that, cheeks burning at the memory of the Prince seeing him in such an unseemly state. 

More silence greets his apology, and while Blaine would very much like to glance upwards so as to see what the Prince may be thinking based on his facial expression, he dares not. Instead he stays bent at the middle, eyes on the Prince’s riding boots. Blaine thinks they are far too dirty for a man as lovely as the Prince to be wearing. 

A hand settles on his shoulder, warm and tender. Blaine feels as though the hand is directly upon his skin, rather than separated from it by a layer of fabric.

“Please, Blaine,” the Prince’s voice is soft, unlike anything Blaine has ever imagined. “You owe me no apologies. I intruded upon you, and I was rude to you in doing so.” Blaine looks up and sees the Prince staring at him with wide, pleading eyes. “I beg of you, please forgive me.”

The words sent a sudden rush of emotion through Blaine, and before he realized it he was blinking back tears. It seemed so silly, to be so overcome with emotion over simple words, but that the Prince was begging him rather than ordering him…

“Of course,” Blaine whispers, straightening up slowly, his voice thick with the emotions stuck in his throat. “Your Highness, of course.”

The Prince stares into his eyes, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows. “I must apologize again. I have upset you.”

Blaine shakes his head, feels his curls bounce with the motion, rustling as they did in his dream. “Please, Your Highness, believe me when I say you have done anything but upset me.”

 _At this moment_ Blaine thinks, remembering the hurt he’d felt when he realized it was the King and not the Prince who wanted him. Such silly, immature hurt, founded on mere minutes of eye contact. 

Now, however, the Prince has not hurt him, or upset him. If anything Blaine feels more like himself, like he is allowed to be himself, than he has since he arrived at the castle.

The Prince does not seem convinced by Blaine’s words. “You’re crying,” he whispers. “It seems as though I _have_ upset you.”

Blaine shakes his head once more, bringing a hand up to wipe that few stray tears that have escaped his eyes. “It is only because of the kindness you are showing me, Your Highness,” Blaine says, the truth flowing out of him like a stream. “I am a mere concubine, you the Crown Prince. You needn’t have begged for my forgiveness, and yet you did.”

The Prince gives him a strange look, one Blaine cannot decipher, his eyes practically staring into Blaine’s soul. “Do not speak of yourself that way,” he says. “You are not a mere concubine, Blaine. You’re the King’s concubine,” he looks past Blaine, to where Blaine assumes Brittany and Carole are still standing. “His favourite concubine, if the rumours are to be believed. There is nothing ‘mere’ about you.”

Blaine looks to the ground, his cheeks flushing bright red. “I am not his favourite,” he says quietly. “I have barely been here three days. I have not yet earned that title.”

The Prince chuckles, and Blaine looks up to see him once again looking past Blaine, though in another direction than earlier. “You should hear how he speaks of you,” The Prince says, voice rough. “How angry he was after our encounter yesterday.” He turns to look Blaine in the eye and smiles, his eyes looking entirely devoid of joy. “There is no doubt in my mind that you are his favourite.”

Blaine would very much like the ground to swallow him whole. His cheeks are bright red and his heart is thumping incredibly loudly. 

“You flatter me, Your Highness,” he whispers, eyes going to the ground. The Prince’s shoes really are quite dirty. Blaine wants nothing more than to kneel down and clean them.

 _Submissive_ , Sue had jeered. Blaine feels his cheeks heat up further.

“I only speak the truth,” the Prince says the words kindly, so Blaine chances a glance up and sees that this time the smile on his face looks far more sincere than earlier. Blaine feels his own lips quirk up in a shy smile, and if anything it looks as though the smile on the Prince’s face grows happier.

They stand like that for some time, until finally the Prince clears his throat and breaks their locked gaze. “Thank you for accepting my apology, Blaine,” he says, voice more formal and less intimate than earlier. It both lifts a giant weight off Blaine’s shoulders and places an even heavier weight on his heart. “I hope to speak with you again sometime soon.”

Blaine’s breath catches in his throat and he nods. “Yes, I - I hope that as well.” He pauses for a moment, then quickly bows and says, “Your Highness.”

The Prince is smiling, seemingly amused, when Blaine stands. “My father is right,” he says, eyes alight and lips quirked upward. “You are polite.”

He bows slightly and then steps around Blaine, leaving him standing firmly in place, eyes wide, lips parted, trying to remember how to breathe.

From their conversation it was easy to infer that the King has spoken to the Prince about him, but Blaine never thought the King would speak to his son about such matters. That the Prince knows how Blaine finds it difficult to call the King by name, something the King has called him ‘polite’ for teasingly far too many times…

He turns watching as the Prince approaches Brittany and offers her his arm. She stares at him and whispers something Blaine cannot hear. The Prince leans in closer and says something else to her. She shakes her head. The Prince nods and turns on his heel, exiting the stable.

A hurricane of thoughts swirl through Blaine’s head. He is high off the conversation he just shared with the Prince, mortified with the knowledge that the King has shared intimate details of their relationship with the Prince, and confused at what he has just experienced.

Because Brittany just said no to the Prince. Despite waiting for him, despite looking as though she had no choice, she just said no to him.

And the Prince did not force her to change her mind.

The Prince walked away.

Nothing makes sense at this moment, not the Prince knowing of his polite nature in the bedroom, not the Prince apologizing to him at all, not the Prince allowing Brittany to so blatantly disobey him.

The Prince does not make any sense.

A hand rests on his shoulder and Blaine jumps despite how gentle the action was. He finds Brittany standing next to him, looking incredibly uncomfortable. 

“I’m not really in the mood to ride anymore,” she says, voice quiet. “I’m sorry. Carole said she’s willing to help you learn a little today, if you wish, but I’m… I’m going to return to my quarters.”

Blaine nods. “I don’t feel in the mood to ride anymore either,” he admits. “We can walk back together. I fear otherwise I will become lost.”

She nods in return. “Okay. I’ll just say goodbye to Carole and we’ll be off.”

Blaine trails behind her, awkwardly watching the two women bid each other goodbye. Carole smiles at him and tells him that she would be more than happy to teach him to ride another day. Blaine thanks her, bows, and follows Brittany out of the stables.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ rebloggable on tumblr ](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/143241482100/opportunity-of-a-lifetime-58)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late! Real life has been a bit crazy lately. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always, please keep [ the warnings for this fic ](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/140753664325/a-night-with-the-king-warnings-masterpost) in mind. A warning for this particular chapter, there is a situation that occurs entirely in Blaine's mind but that might have a slightly incestuous feel to it (no actual incest though). If you're worried about it, please message me on [ tumblr ](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com) (though please do so privately so that I don't have to spoil stuff publicly!)

Blaine makes himself busy when he returns to his quarters, emptying the few belongings he has out of his chest and placing them around his room. A small stack of books go to his bedside table, a little porcelain doll his brother gave him before he left is placed on the window sill, and a piece of cardboard cake they'd kept in the display case at the bakery for many years is placed on the small table by his closet. 

He smiles at the cake, remembering how scrumptious it always looked as he would walk by and how deeply disappointed he was to find it was not real. When they made a new one, his father ran the icing over with a special paste and handed it to Blaine to keep. He's been incredibly fond of it since.

He drops into the large comfy chair next to the table and runs his fingers over the cake decorations. He never did learn the true intricacies of this art. His parents always told him he was too excitable when it came to decorating the cakes and that it required a steady hand. David was being trained, but Blaine…

He hopes his parents allow David to stay at the bakery. As the youngest in his family he will have no other means of income. Besides, he's spent so much time training.

Blaine slumps a little in the chair, the ache in his chest at the thoughts of home becoming too great. He tries to push them aside, but finds that thoughts of the Prince and their earlier encounter take their place.

The entire ordeal felt like something out of his childhood fantasies. That he had had a conversation with the Prince at all is making his thirteen year old self jump for joy. Hell, his seventeen year old self is having a hard time slowing the beat of his heart as well.

Regardless of the (excruciatingly embarrassing) reason for the Prince approaching him, it was still exhilarating to have somebody so powerful and so attractive so near. To have those eyes only on him, such kind words spoken directly at him…

In a way, Blaine can't help but be glad that it was the King and not the Prince who wanted him. He does not think he would even be able to speak, let alone perform sexually should it have been the Prince who called upon him.

Blaine feels heat rise in his cheeks and he glances around the room, fearing suddenly some mind reading invisible man who may be hiding in plain sight. To have thoughts such as those… No, they were not thoughts he should indulge.

He focuses instead on the embarrassing aspects of his encounter with the Prince. How the Prince had not only seen him in a serious state of undress, but that the King had also told the Prince of his politeness. 

His cheeks blush once more. He can picture the conversation. “Oh, father, your concubine looks familiar. I believe I saw him at the procession in Westerville, but he did not cause enough of an impression for me to call upon him.” “Oh, son, it's quite alright. I asked him to be my concubine but he refuses to call me by name and I am quite sure he has slept with somebody other than me. I will most likely send him back where he came from once I have grown tired of him. Far too polite.” “Oh, father, thank you for helping me dodge a bullet!”

Blaine groans and slides further into the chair, wanting to make himself smaller. The conversation was most likely not like that, but he still cannot help but be incredibly embarrassed. Regardless of how it came to be, the King still told the Prince that Blaine is polite. The King has never called him polite outside of the bedroom. There is no other context that could have come with.

He lets out a loud groan, growing tired of his swirling thoughts. Nothing seems to make sense anymore, and his feelings seem to be in a constant battle among themselves, trying to see which one might come out strongest. 

Unfortunately the numbness he himself favours does not seem to be an option. 

He gets to his feet and marches to his bed, slipping his boots off and climbing under the covers fully dressed. He wraps his blankets around himself, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety. 

Lying in bed, staring at the fabric draped across the posts of his bed, Blaine wishes that David were here with him. David would understand the strange mixture of excitement and embarrassment Blaine's encounters with the Prince produced. He always understood Blaine better than anybody. 

Blaine shuts his eyes and focuses on the darkness that the action brings. He has not been awake for long, has not even had breakfast, but he feels as though it was a century ago that Brittany woke him.

As he feels himself drifting, he has an image of Kurt whispering in Brittany's ear and of Brittany refusing him. As the Prince walks from her he turns to look at Blaine, suddenly dressed in the armour from Blaine's dream, and gives him a wide, warm smile, extends his hand and whispers, “Oh. It's you.”

**

Blaine drifts in and out of sleep over the course of the day. He only gets out of bed twice to use the water closet, but otherwise will just stare around his room for several minutes until sleep takes him again.

He is awoken at dinner time by Elliott knocking on his door and once again asking him to join everybody for dinner. Blaine agrees, though only because he has not eaten at all that day. 

When they enter the common room Sebastian makes a comment about Blaine's bed head, stating he did not notice the King coming in earlier. Blaine understands the implications but is still too sleepy to even consider retorting. Sue does though, grabbing Sebastian’s arm and dragging him close so she whisper furiously in his ear. Blaine doesn't know how he ended up with Sue as his ally, but he is more than happy for it.

He eats in silence. There are conversations around him, like the previous night, but he feels no need to attempt to join them. He feels as though he's still asleep, chewing his food lethargically and barely looking up from his plate.

Not fifteen minutes after Blaine arrives the man at the end of the table, Bryan, stands up in the same loud and attention grabbing way as he had the previous night. Blaine once again watches him go, waiting until he has disappeared behind the door to his quarters to look back at his food. 

He begins eating faster, feeling like he will be allowed to leave now that Bryan has left.

As he’s soaking up the small amount of stew left in his bowl with a piece of bread, Brittany, who has been sitting beside him, leans in and asks, “Did you like it?”

Blaine looks up at her with a small frown on his face. “Sorry?”

“The stew,” she says, pointing to his almost entirely empty bowl. “Did you like it?”

He glances down at the bowl and at the piece of stew-soaked bread in his hand. “Yes, it was delicious,” he tells her, giving her a small smile.

She beams in return. “I’m glad! I made it.”

Blaine knows that he is still incredibly groggy from his day-long nap, so he repeats, “You made it?” as if that will make it more comprehensible.

“I did,” she says, still beaming. “After the stables, you know, I was feeling a little down. I’m friends with Rachel, whose mother is the head cook. So I went down and asked if there was anything I could do to help and they let me make the stew!” She’s still grinning, bouncing a little in her seat. “It was just for us, of course. Shelby would never trust me to make food for the King and his court, but still!”

Blaine tilts his head to the side, as if that will help his still half asleep brain to understand what she’s saying. “So… that’s allowed? We can just go down to the kitchen and help make dinner?”

She nods. “Or you can just make yourself a snack or whatever. As long as you don’t touch His Majesty’s food Shelby doesn’t really care.”

“Huh,” Blaine says, popping the piece of bread in his mouth. He chews it carefully, digesting this new information.

It seems as though the concubines have more freedom in this castle than he assumed they did. 

“Well,” he begins once he’s finished chewing. “Thank you very much for the delicious stew, Brittany.”

She nods and then turns to talk to Emma.

He nods at Elliott. “Thank you for waking me in time to enjoy this delicious meal,” he says, and Elliott smiles and nods in return.

He bids everybody else goodnight, and thankfully Sebastian says nothing as he returns to his chambers. He still feels somewhat groggy as he heads to the water closet to ready himself for bed. Of course, part of his night time ritual is to wash his face with cold water (his brother always insisted it repelled acne better than any fancy creams sold at the apothecary), and as soon as the water hit his face he felt wide awake.

He groans and continues his ritual, then heads back to his room, slides under the covers, and stares up at the fabric overtop his bed. He squirms a little, fingers rubbing together, and his toes curl. He glances out the window next to his bed, staring out at the garden for a few minutes.

There isn’t much to see, considering how dark it is, but he still enjoys what he does see. He wonders, if they are allowed free reign of the kitchen will he be allowed free reign of the gardens? Perhaps he could be trained by one of the many gardeners when he is not learning how to ride.

He smiles, excited at the thought of learning how to ride. Even if it is only Brittany who teaches him rather than Lady Hudson (and oh, what a thought, to be taught to ride by a Knight) it will still see the fulfillment of one of his deepest desires.

The excitement only serves to wake him up further. Frustrated, Blaine sits up and draws the curtains around his bed, blocking his view of the window. He feels hidden, bathed in darkness and snuggled in warm blankets. 

He squirms again, trying to get comfortable. He turns on his side, then back on his back. Then on his other side. On his stomach. On his back once more. Nothing feels comfortable.

He shouldn’t have slept all day.

Still, sleeping felt like the only way to block the dangerous thoughts of the Prince entering his mind. His sleep was restless, and therefore devoid of dreams. He was able to avoid thoughts of his crystal clear eyes, of his solemn voice, of his sincerity in apologizing. He didn’t think of how the Prince allowed Brittany to deny him. 

Now, however, he cannot stop the thoughts from creeping through. It’s like a dam breaking, old fantasies and new facts filling his mind like a flood. As a child he always dreamt that the Prince would be kind. That he would respect his subjects as well as his lovers (or, singular lover, in Blaine’s fantasies). That he would care about others and treat everybody as though they are special and important. 

His brief interaction with the Prince exceeded all of those expectations. As he grew older he had learned to accept that kindness and respect looked different for a peasant like him and royalty like Prince Kurt. For the Prince, respect to his subjects meant not beating Brittany on the spot for disobeying him. For peasants, respect to the Prince meant never disobeying an order. 

He knows the respect ran deeper between the Prince and Brittany. Brittany did not look injured in any way over dinner, which implies she was not beaten for her disobedience. The Prince really did allow her to say no to him without experiencing any significant consequences.

He squirms again, turning on his side. He shouldn't be thinking like this. Like the Prince is a possible friend. Or, his twelve year old self whispers, a possible…

He turns back onto his back. These are dangerous thoughts. Very dangerous. Thoughts he should not be entertaining in any way. These are the kind of thoughts that have caused concubines to be thrown out of the palace in the past, sometimes even killed. He isn't a naive twelve year old anymore. He isn't just a baker’s boy from Westerville. He is the King’s concubine and he cannot afford to fantasy about the Prince like this.

_You could have been the Prince’s concubine._

Blaine rolls onto his stomach and presses his face into his pillows. No, he couldn't have been the Prince’s concubine, because the Prince didn't want him. They held eye contact for a moment during a procession. Blaine has probably since exaggerated the moment in his head. 

_But what if he did want you._ Blaine groans into the pillow. 

He has to stop. These are dangerous thoughts. 

He’s become incredibly adept at shielding his mind from thoughts such as these, and so he picks them up and locks them in a small box in his mind.

He turns on his side, as the thought _what if he did want you_ enters his mind again. He wills it away with all his might, but it is all that fills his mind.

An image of Mason leading him to the inn, up the stairs and opening a door to reveal the Prince rather than the King accompanies the thought. He can see it clear as day. The Prince smiling softly, shyly, offering his hand to Blaine as Blaine enters.

Blaine covers his eyes with his hands and kicks his feet in frustration. How is it that thoughts of home and of David are so easily avoidable, but these simply will not leave his mind? Once locked away in the box they remain there, but this? No, the Prince is still the only one in his head, leading Blaine to the bed and taking his chin in hand, kindly asking if he will need instructing on the nights activities.

He once again turns on his stomach and brings his pillow up to his ears, letting out a muffled shout. 

The King was kind as well. The King offered him the best first time a boy like Blaine could ask for. The King went slow, the King understood Blaine’s lack of experience and catered to it. The King is who Blaine should be thinking of.

He rolls onto his back and huffs out a sigh. The memory of the King on that first night mingles with the fantasy of a first time with the Prince. On one side the King is palming Blaine’s ass and kissing his neck. On the other the Prince brings Blaine’s hand to his cock and throws his head back at the mere contact.

Blaine feels his own cock swell at the thoughts, and he feels absolutely disgusted. In his memory the King spreads his legs and inserts a finger in him for the first time. In his fantasy the Prince lowers his head and takes Blaine’s hardness into his mouth. 

It’s as though he can feel them both: the Prince’s mouth and the King’s finger. With a quiet gasp he lowers his hand into his sleep pants and wraps his fingers around himself. 

He strokes himself firmly once, hips thrusting up into his fist and, in his mind, the Prince’s mouth. Fantasy and memory mix and Blaine imagines the King pulling his hips down so he may have better access, the Prince’s head coming down with him. 

The Prince pops his head off Blaine and the King inserts a second finger. Blaine bites down on his bottom lip as each man lifts their head and stares at him, whispering, “You're perfect,” in unison.

He strokes himself faster as his memory shows the King inserting three fingers in him, and his fantasy has Kurt inserting one as well. He may be empty in reality, but he feels stuffed to the brim, the Prince and King’s fingers working in tandem to stretch him as wide as possible while still giving him as much pleasure as they can. 

“Are you ready?” they ask together, and they're separate again. The memory of the King positioning himself is set next to the fantasy of the Prince pulling Blaine closer, placing one leg on his shoulder, and giving him a warm smile.

They enter him at once, and Blaine gasps, hand flying faster over his cock. He can feel the King inside him, large and familiar, but he can also feel the Prince, new and strange but no less wonderful.

His memory and fantasy fuck him at the rhythm of his hand, quick and hard. Blaine can see the King panting above him, face red and eyes scrunched up in pleasure. Just as clearly he can see the Prince above him as well, eyes never leaving Blaine, bottom lip worried under his teeth, thrusts perfect and pronounced.

It isn't long before Blaine comes in his pants and in his fantasies, back arching off the bed as the waves of orgasm run through his body. 

As he falls back onto his mattress, fantasy and memory fading, he hears the voice of the King whispering, “I'm so glad you're mine.”

Blaine struggles to catch his breath, the force of such a strong orgasm shaking him to his core. He stares up at the fabric above him and pulls his sticky hand out of his pants. 

After what feels like hours he manages to pull himself into a sitting position, push the curtains aside, and step out of his bed. He heads to the water closet, washing his hands thoroughly, already feeling the vestiges of tiredness creeping up his spine. 

He scurried back to his room, slips out of his soiled pants and climbs back into bed, wearing nothing but his over large sleep shirt. 

He pulls the curtains around his bed closed and settles into the blankets and pillows, body tired but ever so relaxed.

He shuts his eyes and wills sleep to take him before he is overcome with thoughts of guilt over what he has just done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ rebloggable on tumblr ](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/143748480385/opportunity-of-a-lifetime-68)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy friday everybody! this chapter is mainly smut of the burt/blaine variety ;) to those who feel uncomfortable with that, feel free to skip to the first break, after which there is no smut but there is an important conversation that shouldn’t be missed :) as always, please keep [ the warnings for this fic](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/140753664325/a-night-with-the-king-warnings-masterpost) in mind! hope you enjoy!

For the third time in a row Blaine wakes up to somebody next to him. 

Thankfully this time they are not on his bed, but there is definitely somebody there, shaking his shoulder and saying his name louder by the minute.

He pries one eye open and finds Mason standing next to him, thankfully standing in front of the sunlight streaming in from the window, pulling his hand back as he realizes Blaine is awake. So much for drawing the curtains around his bed so he could sleep in. 

“Good, you’re up,” Mason says, standing up straighter. “The King has requested you wake him this morning.”

Blaine sits up, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

Mason rolls his eyes. “Time to wake up. The King has requested you. Come on, get dressed. Though I would advise you to dress in some… loose clothes.”

Blaine stands up slowly and slugs his way toward his closet. He leaves the closet door open a crack to allow sunlight to enter the dark space, but closes it enough to give him privacy. He does not spend much time deciding on an outfit, instead pulling on the first shirt and trousers that he finds. He ties the laces of his trousers and tucks in his shirt, then returns to the room to find Mason standing near the door, arms crossed across his chest and foot thumping impatiently.

“Good, you’re ready. Let’s go.”

The journey to the King’s quarters seem slightly familiar, though Blaine is not really awake enough to make decent notes on where they are headed. He tries to wake himself up as he walks, blinking rapidly and surreptitiously pinching his arm to get his blood flowing. 

They turn a corner and Blaine finally finds something he definitely recognizes: the doors to the King’s chambers. His heart starts to beat faster as they approach, his eyes avoiding those of the guards stationed in front of the doors, blood definitely flowing now. The mere sight of the door has him fully awake in seconds. 

They are only a few feet away when Mason grabs his arm and turns him away from the main entrance and towards a small door off to the side. Blaine frowns as Mason opens the door, which leads to a long, dark room.

“I thought I was meant to wake up the King,” _whatever that means_ he adds in his head. Mason continues to lead him down the room, which, as Blaine looks around, is beginning to look more like a hallway.

“You are,” Mason replies. “But you cannot wake him if he is woken by the guards in front of his room announcing he has a visitor,” he says it as though speaking to a child. “You will enter through the servant's door.”

They have stopped in front of a door much smaller than the official entrance to the King’s quarters. Behind them is a similar door, which Blaine can only assume leads to the sitting room connected to the King’s bedroom. 

He stares at the door and licks his lips, which feels incredibly dry. He turns to Mason, heart beating like a drum against his ribcage.

“How… how will I wake him?” He does not think he can wake the King in the same way Mason woke him. He would feel incredibly rude. Perhaps the King wishes him to enter the bed with him and… what? Kiss him? Press himself to him? Sing to him until he wakes?

Once again, he feels entirely unprepared.

Mason raises an eyebrow and sneers. “With your mouth, of course.”

Blaine stares at him, a smile forming on his face. So the King _does_ want him to climb into his bed and kiss him awake?

“I did not know the King was such a romantic,” he says.

Mason’s eyebrow raises further. “Blaine. He wants you to service him with his mouth. You know,” he gestures to the door. “ _Him_. There's nothing romantic about that.”

Blaine’s lips part, but he quickly shuts them. Oh.

_Oh._

Mason rolls his eyes and gently opens the door. He does not enter or even look in, instead simply gesturing to Blaine to enter. Blaine takes a deep breath and walks into the room as quietly as he can. 

It looks just as it did the previous time, though it is strange to enter from the side rather than the front. The curtains are not drawn around the King’s bed, but they _are_ drawn across the window, painting the room in a soft orange glow as the sun shines through them. 

Blaine doesn’t allow himself to spend time looking around the King’s room. There is the King, asleep in his bed, peaceful and unaware of Blaine carefully approaching him.

It need not be said that Blaine has absolutely no idea what it is that he is doing. His only sexual experiences thus far have involved anal sex, never oral. He has imagined it, that is certain (he blushes at that, remembering his sordid fantasy from the night before. Best put that out of his mind for now), but has never come close to performing it. 

Perhaps it is kind of the King to request he do it like this. He will not see Blaine’s fumbling, nor his blushing cheeks and shaking hands. He will only feel a warm mouth around him. Small mercies.

Standing next to the King’s bed, he is unsure of how to proceed. Should he climb under the blankets? Should he push the blankets aside? He chews on his bottom lip as he deliberates, eyes darting over the sleeping King’s face.

The King wishes to be woken with Blaine’s mouth, he remembers, and so decides to slip under the blankets instead of removing them. A sudden burst of cool air may awaken the King in a way different than he imagined.

Carefully and slowly he lifts the blanket at the end of the bed enough to crawl underneath. He maneuvers his way around the King’s feet and legs, trying desperately not to accidentally touch them or, worse, fall on them.

There is still a bit of light under the blankets, though not much, now being filtered through two layers of fabric. It is still enough to see that the King has fallen asleep in nothing but a large sleep shirt. Blaine swallows in an attempt to moisten his dry throat, eyes going instantly to the testicles just barely peeking out from under the hem. They are not something he has ever paid attention to in his encounters with the King, and seeing them only solidifies how unprepared he is to do this.

He carefully shuffles forward and lifts the hem of the King’s shirt until the rest of his cock is revealed. It is still soft and much smaller than he’s ever seen it, but he knows that soon enough it will grow larger. He purses his lips as he stares at it, heart beating so loud he is worried it will wake the King.

Deciding to bite the bullet, he leans down as far as he can, arms awkwardly holding up most of his body weight, and sucks just the tip of the King’s cock into his mouth.

It’s… different. Not what he expected. Smoother, for one thing, and not as foul tasting as he would have thought. 

He worried momentarily about his teeth, but soon finds that they are not as much of a problem as he might have expected. His lips seem to cover them automatically as he gently sucks the King’s cock further into his mouth. 

It begins to harden almost instantly, and Blaine is careful not to take too much in at once. Still careful not to move too quickly, he moves one hand to the base of the King’s cock, holding it better in place and allowing him better access. Unfortunately, doing so also causes him to lose his balance and fall belly first onto the mattress. Thankfully the King’s legs are spread enough that he does not hit any of the King’s body, although he does find himself with more of a mouthful than he was expecting so soon.

He pulls off a little, instead sucking on the tip as the King hardens beneath him. He licks over the slit with his tongue, and is surprised when a salty liquid emerges. He shouldn’t be surprised, he’s seen it leaking from his own erections in the past, but for some reason it shocks him. Although it doesn’t taste like much it seems to drag down his throat as he swallows it.

The King groans, and Blaine glances up, though he sees nothing but the bottom of the King’s night shirt and the top of his stomach. He goes back to work, hand wrapping more firmly around the base and taking a little more of the King’s cock in his mouth.

It isn’t long before the King is entirely hard. Blaine cannot take much of him at once, so instead begins using his hand to pump the rest, sucking as hard as he can around the part in his mouth.

Saliva begins to leak down his chin and Blaine tries to swallow as much as he can, though it’s hard with the King’s, well, hardness in his mouth. 

Feeling daring, he pushes himself down a little further, though still not far enough to touch his hand. His hips squirm and his eyes widen as he realizes that he is also becoming hard from this. 

He is not sure what the King would desire, so he simply rubs himself against the mattress, though not enough to actually make himself come. He begins to suck harder around the King, tonguing under the crown of his cock, the flesh spongy in his mouth.

He squeaks around his mouthful as a hand appears in his hair, and just as suddenly the blanket is removed from his head and shoulders and he looks up to see a very sleepy King smiling down at him.

“Good morning, beautiful boy,” he whispers, voice hoarse from sleep. Blaine tries to smile in greeting with his eyes as he also bobs his head up and down on the King’s cock. The King’s fingers tangle in his hair though do not make any effort to guide him. The King knows that it is his first time doing this as much as he does, and Blaine is eternally thankful for the action.

“Oh,” the King breathes out and Blaine sees him falling back onto his pillow, his fingers tightening in his hair. It stings a little, pulls, but Blaine doesn’t mind. In fact, it makes him roll his hips into the mattress with a little more fervor.

His jaw is beginning to ache, and he’s finding it more difficult to breath through his nose alone, but he refuses to give up. He begins to bob his mouth faster and speeds up the motions of his hand along with it.

“I’m going to come,” the King croaks, and Blaine groans around him, the words sending shivers down his spine. He is now rutting against the mattress and sucking in earnest, feeling more confident in his ability to do this. 

He licks entirely under the head of the King’s cock and that seems to be the end. A thicker, even saltier substance is spilling into his mouth, and Blaine finds himself sputtering and surprised, lifting his head too fast and causing most of the King’s come to splatter on his cheeks. 

His hand seems to continue moving on his own, milking the King through his orgasm, his hips moving faster than before. 

The King’s hand moves from Blaine’s hair down to his jaw and lifts his head up so that he may look into his eyes. He’s smiling, sated and happy, and he whispers, “Thank you, Blaine. You were amazing.”

Blaine’s eyes close and his lips part as his own orgasm overtakes him, cock desperately seeking the friction of the mattress beneath him. He bites down on his lip to stop a moan from escaping.

“Oh, my boy. My Blaine,” the King sounds almost reverent. “Did you come just from sucking me off?”

Blaine whimpers as his hips slowly still and nods as well as he can with his jaw still cupped in the King’s hand. 

“Wonderful,” the King moves his other arm down to Blaine’s ass and grabs a handful, using it as leverage to pull Blaine up to his level. He plants a kiss on Blaine’s sticky lips and repeats, “Wonderful.”

**

Hours have passed and Blaine is still in the King’s bed. Breakfast was had in bed, both entirely naked and feeding each other grapes in between giggles. Well, mainly Blaine’s giggles. It felt so strange to have the King, the most powerful man in the kingdom, feeding him. 

Despite their state of nudity the King has not attempted to initiate sex. Blaine thought he would when he asked Blaine strip and discarded his own shirt, but instead he simply pulled Blaine close and cuddled him to his chest.

They are in the same position again, their bellies full from breakfast and their bodies relaxed in bed. The King’s hands are in Blaine’s hair again, combing through them gently, occasionally pausing to wrap a curl around his finger. It’s nice. It feels nice.

The King has been talking off and on about some political alliance he’s attempting to form, though Blaine has not been fully listening, only nodding along and occasionally pressing a kiss to the middle of the King’s chest or his shoulder. 

His attention is caught, however, when the King says, “And I know Kurt isn’t happy about it, but I don’t really know how else to gain Essex’s trust. We may not have a bloody history with them, but we’ve never had a friendly one either.”

Blaine looks up and frowns. The King smiles at him and chuckles. “You haven’t been paying attention, have you?”

“Sorry,” Blaine mumbles, feeling chastised. “I do not understand most of your political talk. I am happy just to listen, though.”

“And I greatly appreciate it,” the King replies. “I was simply saying that even though my son agreed to be married to the Prince of Essex I know that his heart is not truly in it. He had his mind set on somebody else, and he is grieving the loss of their potential marriage.” The King’s hand leave’s Blaine’s hair and goes to his shoulders, rubbing across them gently. “I just do not know if I’ve done the right thing.”

Blaine looks down to where the blanket is pooled around their waists. “Your Majesty, I am not politically savvy,” he says, careful to choose his words well. “I am in no position to give advice. But may I just say, your son clearly loves you,” he glances up and gives him a small smile. “If he is willing to do this for you then you should accept that as the token of love that it is, rather than the potential for disdain you are assuming it will become.”

The King smiles down at him and leans over to kiss his temple. “You may not be politically savvy but you are most definitely savvy when it comes to matters of the heart,” he kisses Blaine’s temple again. “Thank you, Blaine. That is quite excellent advice.”

Blaine beams, heart leaping at the praise. The King chuckles.

“Though, I don’t know how many times I’m going to have to remind you to call me Burt when it is just us.”

“At least once more,” Blaine says, ducking his head and blushing. The King pulls him closer and Blaine rests his head on his shoulder.

“Speaking of my son,” the King says. “Has he spoken to you yet? I requested that he apologize to you as soon as possible.”

Blaine nods. “He found me in the stables with Brittany yesterday and extended the most sincere and most unnecessary apologies.”

The King clucks his tongue. “They are not unnecessary if I deem them to be necessary.”

Blaine smiles. “That is a hard point to argue.”

“So don’t argue it,” the King says, chuckling. His hands find Blaine’s hair again. “I am glad that he did as I asked though.”

“He’s a good man,” Blaine whispers. “Kind.”

“Sometimes too kind,” the King replies. “That’s… he gets that from his mother.”

Blaine does not know how to reply, is not sure if he even should. Silence stretches between them for several minutes, until finally the King breaks it.

“So, you were in the stables,” he says, voice full of forced interest. “Are you interested in riding?”

Blaine nods. “I have been interested since I was a boy but was never able to get lessons. Brittany has offered to teach me, as has the very generous Lady Hudson. It would be a great honour to be taught by her.”

The King hums, the sound reverberating against Blaine’s cheek. “She is my best knight,” he says. “And a close friend. If she teaches you I have no doubt you will soon be one of the finest horsemen in the castle.”

“I hope so,” Blaine admits. 

“Shall I contact Miss Cohen-Chang and add some riding clothes to my order?” the King asks, and Blaine looks up at him in surprise and hope. Brittany had told him to suggest it, but never did he think the King would actually say yes, much less suggest it himself.

“I - You would do that?”

The King grins. “You’re adorable,” he says, tapping Blaine on the nose. “And yes, of course. Anything for my top advisor on heart related issues.”

Blaine blushes, then leans in and presses a lingering kiss to the King’s lips. 

The King sighs into the kiss, one hand going to Blaine’s hip and giving it a hard squeeze. “I wish I could stay in bed with you forever,” he says, the words quiet and soft against Blaine’s lips. “Unfortunately I have spent too much time already lost in our little world.” He kisses Blaine. “I’m sure you must have other plans for the day.”

Blaine almost wants to laugh because, plans? What plans? His plans were most likely to lie around in his room, maybe finally actually have lunch instead of sleeping through it. Perhaps look around the library in the concubine’s common room to see what is available. This is very literally the most exciting thing that will happen to Blaine today.

Instead what he says is, “I would cancel them all,” which makes the King grin. 

“Unfortunately I cannot afford to do that as well,” the King sighs. “I will call upon you as soon as my schedule allows.”

“I cannot wait,” Blaine replies, blushing at his own boldness. The King gives him a final kiss, then rises from his bed and goes to his closet to dress. Blaine finds his own clothes and slips on his shirt and undergarments, but frowns at the sight of his pants. He puts them on, wincing at the way his earlier mess has dried. He looks down and his frown deepens. It’s entirely obvious what has happened in them.

The King returns from his closet in simple clothes. Blaine looks him over, surprised. The King smiles self-consciously. “I have a page who helps me dress,” he admits. Blaine nods, not sure how to respond.

“Oh,” the King frowns when he sees Blaine’s pants. “I did not think of that.”

“I can just untuck my shirt,” Blaine says, doing so. He looks down. “It covers most of it.”

“I’ll just tell Mason to lead you through the servant halls,” the King says, and Blaine sighs in relief. Though at this time there will probably be many servants roaming those halls, they are far darker than the regular halls. 

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The King walks to him, shaking his head, and leans down to kiss him on the lips. “Burt,” he says.

Blaine nods, and whispers, “Burt.”

It still does not feel right, but after almost four hours of talking to the man, Blaine has to admit that it does not feel as wrong as it did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ rebloggable on tumblr ](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/143953750025/opportunity-of-a-lifetime-78)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, everybody, here is the end of part two! i hope you’ve enjoyed reading this fic as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it, and i hope that you will all stick around for part three, which i will begin posting in two weeks time :) as always, please keep [ the warnings for this fic](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/140753664325/a-night-with-the-king-warnings-masterpost) in mind. see you all in two weeks!

Mason delivers him swiftly to the concubine quarters, and disappears before Blaine can thank him. Blaine hurries the short distance between the servant door and his own, thankful that only Will is currently in the common room and his attention is focused on a book. He changes quickly, and goes to throw his pants on top of the ones from the previous night, but finds those gone.

A quick glance around the room shows that it has been slightly tidied up, his bed made and his things straightened. He drops the pants by the door of the closet and glances around.

Somebody cleaned his room. Somebody made his bed. He had been too confused and disoriented the previous two days to notice, but he would not be surprised if it had been done those days as well.

He sits on the edge of his bed and takes a deep breath. Yet another thing he will have to get used to about living in the castle. Yet another thing he worries he will never become accustomed to. 

It is far too tempting to simply curl up under his covers and worry about how he will never fit in in the castle. He refuses to do that, though. Last night he had a moment of weakness, though one he justifies to himself as alright because his fantasy involved the King as well, and he does not intend to repeat it. He has done so well at compartmentalizing, at ignoring any thoughts that could cause him any sort of negative feelings, and he refuses to stop now.

Instead he walks out of his room and into the common room. He sits down next to Will and shyly asks for book recommendations. Soon enough he finds himself curled up in a comfy chair, positively devouring Will’s suggestion. It’s a novel he has never heard of, with a faster pace than any he has ever read. He wants to spend all day doing nothing but reading.

Lunch comes around, and Blaine watches as several servants walk out of the small door (which he had not noticed until he appeared through it himself), carrying platters of food. They place them delicately on the table and then disappear as though they were never there.

Blaine looks forlornly at his book, which he desperately wishes to keep reading. Still, it has been over three hours since he shared breakfast with the King and his stomach is beginning to protest his hunger.

“Don’t worry,” Will says, clearly noticing his dilemma. “We don’t eat lunch as we do supper. It’s far more informal. Take what you wish and return to your book.”

Blaine smiles his thanks and places the book face down on his chair, open on his current spot. There are many wonderful options, but he ultimately opts for a glass of water and several small sandwiches, feeling as though they will yield the smallest mess. He is fully aware that it will not be him cleaning the mess, and does not want to make more work for servants who are most likely overworked already.

He eats and reads, eyes flying over the words and breath catching in excitement every time something unexpected happens. 

He is so engrossed he does not notice the time passing, and jumps when a hand settles on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Elliott says, smiling sheepishly. “You’re really enjoying that book, eh?”

Blaine blushes but nods. “It’s wonderful,” he admits.

“Think you can stand to part with it for a bit? I was hoping we could take a short walk through the gardens.”

Blaine nods again. “Yes, of course,” he says. He glances at the book, not wanting to fold the edge of the page he is currently on. “Am I allowed to keep this in my room?” he asks, holding it up, fingers holding his place.

“Of course,” Elliott says. “Just make sure you bring it back when you’re done,” he winks after saying it, and Blaine smiles. He asks Elliott to wait a moment and rushes to his room, where he has several bookmarks. He places one in the book and then hurries back. The book is wonderful, and he cannot wait to get back to it, but he is entirely enamored with the gardens and cannot imagine passing up an opportunity to walk them again. 

As they walk out, Blaine feels awe fill his entire body. The sun is beginning to set, and is bathing the entire garden in a warm pink hue, giving it an even more ethereal glow.

He hears Elliott chuckling beside him, and turns to see him smiling widely. “I knew you would enjoy this,” he says. “It’s beautiful, is it not?”

Blaine nods as they walk slowly. He is sure that his jaw is on the floor and that he must look a fool, but he cannot help it. It is so magnificently beautiful. He hates himself for sleeping through this twice now. He promises himself that he will never miss the sunset again.

They walk in silence, Blaine looking around at the splendor of this beautiful garden. Everything seems brighter, more beautiful in this light. He was already in love with the gardens, but this…

He stops them and puts a hand on Elliott’s forearm. “Thank you,” he tells him, eyes wide and imploring, hoping to show Elliott how deeply he means it. Elliott smiles down at him, warm, though different than when the King smiles at him in that way. It makes Blaine feel like maybe, just maybe, there are some things he could get used to here.

**

Blaine stops sleeping through his days. He no longer feels the need to. Instead of avoiding thoughts of home, of David, or, more frequently, of the Prince, by sleeping, he instead fills his days with activities.

Lady Hudson agrees to teach him to ride, though she admits she can only spare a few hours every week. Blaine is thankful and humbled that she would even consider doing this, let alone that she actually is, and he wastes no opportunity to remind her of this.

It is close to a month and a half before his new wardrobe arrives, and with it his riding clothes. He has been borrowing some of Will’s, who has a surprisingly similar body type to his, but he looks forward to having his own. When his clothes finally arrive he instantly goes for the riding gear, holding it tightly to his chest and then, forgetting they are not the only ones in his room, launching himself at a laughing King and kissing him deeply in gratitude.

The rest of the clothing is beautiful as well, and Blaine begins to dress nicer on a regular basis. It makes the King especially happy when Blaine arrives in his chambers dressed in the clothes that he bought him. 

He asks Brittany one day if she will take him to the kitchens so that he may begin cooking some of their meals as well. While the head chef, Shelby, is not particularly kind to him (though she doesn’t treat him as a nuisance, which he supposes is enough), her daughter Rachel is more than happy to have him there, and almost immediately enlists his help in preparing some bread rolls for the cleaning servants. Soon he is going to the kitchens once or twice a week, sometimes to entertain Rachel as she works, sometimes to cook meals for the concubines or for some of the servants, sometimes to simply make himself a snack.

He also spends much time in the gardens, both on his walks to the stables and for mere pleasure. No matter how many times he walks them he still finds himself in utter awe of them. Unless the weather is particularly bad he makes an effort to walk the gardens at least once a day, most usually at sunset.

He befriends the head of the gardeners, a surprisingly young woman named Mercedes who teaches him the names of the plants and how to properly care for them. Blaine knows he will have no use for this information at any point in his life, but he cherishes every bit of new knowledge anyway. Mercedes also recommends him several books on gardening, some of which he finds in the concubines’ library. He knows there is a far larger library somewhere in the castle, but despite his apparent freedom in most aspects, he is still unsure if he is allowed to borrow the books from it.

Any other time he has is spent with the King. He learns to call him Burt at just the right times, knows if he refuses to say it at any moment other than when he is about to orgasm that it makes the King come harder. He learns new positions, new techniques, lets the King teach him everything that he knows. He becomes an expert at oral sex, and finds the best position for his own pleasure is if he is riding the King, but knows that the King likes it best when he can fuck Blaine from behind. 

He knows that he is the only concubine being called upon. Knows not only because of the looks he gets from Sue and Will, but because Sebastian blatantly tells him. Sue claims she doesn’t mind, and Will seems to just be happy that it is not Emma being called, but Sebastian likes to try and make him feel bad about it. Thankfully Sue is usually there to remind Sebastian that he is just jealous because for a long time he was the only concubine the King desired. Sue admits it’s been years since she was called on regularly.

Blaine doesn’t want to think about that becoming him. He is beginning to deeply enjoy his time with the King; not just the sex, but the conversation, too. Every now and then the King will mention political things, sometimes asking Blaine for his advice, but Blaine refuses to give it. He will give advice on issues of the heart, every time, but he wants to keep the King’s political life and their private life separate. He wasn’t lying when he told David he didn’t want to be King. 

He only thinks of David occasionally, but when he does he is wracked with guilt. Especially now that he feels closer to the King, that he is beginning to feel a true fondness for the man. There are times when the King is asleep beside him, taking a short nap after a particularly intense love making session, that Blaine considers whispering his secret in the King’s ear. 

_You’re not the only man I’ve slept with._

He can never bring himself to do it, out of fear that the King is not truly asleep and will hear. Because that is another thing that Blaine has learnt the King really likes - the fact that he is the only man Blaine has ever been with. He loves teaching Blaine new things, loves watching him learn to please him. He praises Blaine, then tells him how lucky he is that Blaine is only his. Almost every love making sessions ends with those exact words. “I'm so lucky that you are only mine.”

It makes him feel guilty, as well as afraid that one day he will reveal his guilt to the King. Still, despite the constant reminders, he finds that he can often forget that the King _isn’t_ the only man he's been with, the memory of his night with David fading with every time Blaine pushes it into the box in his mind. With the additions to his wardrobe his old clothing has been shifted to the back of his closet, and with it has gone David’s shirt. 

Out of sight, out of mind.

Unfortunately, that is not possible for the Prince, who seems to be absolutely everywhere that Blaine is. If Blaine has a riding lesson with Lady Hudson (who insists he call her Carole, but much like with the King Blaine still can’t make himself do it) the Prince is there, planning on going riding himself. If Blaine is walking through the gardens, the Prince passes by him with a friend or Elliott or Brittany on his arm. Several times the Prince will show up unannounced at the concubine quarters while Blaine is curled up in a chair, reading, hoping to call upon Brittany or Elliott. Every time this happens it surprises Blaine, but Elliott explains to him that the Prince (or Kurt, as Elliott calls him) finds sending pages for his concubines too impersonal. He prefers to call on them himself.

These days are the hardest for Blaine, as he watches a reluctant Brittany or an eager Elliott disappear with the Prince. He can only imagine what they are doing, and often he has to retire to his room soon after. 

Masturbation has become a large part of Blaine’s nightly routine. He tries as hard as he can to think of only the King as he touches himself, learns his own body and how to give himself pleasure. Sometimes, however, thoughts of his night with David or fantasies of the Prince slip in, too. He assures himself that this is okay, because never is it only David or the Prince. It is always David or the Prince _and_ the King. That makes it okay to think of other men. Or at least that is what he tells himself.

He does notice as time goes on that Brittany becomes more receptive to the Prince, less hesitant or plain angry when they walk together, ride together, or when he calls on her. Blaine and Brittany spend time together, as she teaches him to ride whenever Lady Hudson cannot, but he has still not built up the courage to ask her why it is that she is so cold to the Prince. Stories Elliott have told him make it sound as though Brittany and the Prince used to be incredibly close. They were friends before she became his concubine, apparently, and continued to be friends above all else. 

Regardless of the reason it seems to be starting to pass, and as Brittany’s mood lightens, so it seems does everybody else’s. Even Sebastian seems more agreeable, though only slightly. 

It takes time, no doubt about it, but slowly Blaine begins to feel like he actually fits in. Not like he belongs; he is not sure he will ever feel like he belongs amongst the sheer opulence that constantly surrounds him. But he does feel less like an outsider. He talks during meals. He doesn’t let Sebastian walk all over him. He fucks the King on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis.

Things are going well, and Blaine’s life begins running so smoothly that he barely notices that five entire months have gone by.

And then, the King calls upon Sue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ rebloggable on tumblr ](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/144316339975/opportunity-of-a-lifetime-88)  
> 


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